


A Matter of Loyalty

by Annorah



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Alien Culture, Angst, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Occasional Family Fluff, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), War, but waaay later on, social movement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 19:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annorah/pseuds/Annorah
Summary: After almost two years in Rook's company, Ben could no longer picture his life without the Revonnahgander by his side. You all might imagine, he just wouldn't allow the best friend and partner he's ever had to go on a long, dangerous solo-mission.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not canon compliant for one sole reason: it was planned way before Omniverse ended.
> 
> Originally posted on FF.Net, where a lovely girl under the pen name Ice-Woman n AVG helps me spot embarrasing mistakes. You still may find minor mistakes. Sorry for that in advance.
> 
> If you have not read it there and decide to go on, then please, enjoy.

_Two years ago. . ._

.

The end of the day had been close. Ben could hardly wait to arrive at HQ and head home to get some proper rest.

Contrary to what he’d been thinking –prior to the encounter with that Fistrick 'bro'– the night had actually hold quite a few thrills for him. However, it still hadn't been the same, and that particularly exciting part of the night was already over anyway, so the owner of the Omnitrix firmly believed he had each reason to be as bored as an Amish kid. Looking out the Proto-TRUCK window didn't make time run any faster and certainly didn't make the road more entertaining, but at least Ben could tell, depending on which buildings came into view, how far they were from their destination.

A quarter of his attention had been caught by a passing chubby dog when his new partner broke off with the heavy silence. "We did pretty well today, do you not agree? I think we are an formidable team," Rook commented enthusiastically after five everlasting minutes of awkward tension.

Ben turned to him with the same stoic expression and glanced at the tiny smile playing at the edge of the blue alien's lips, then rolled his eyes back to the window. He rested his elbow on the door and leant his cheek on the palm of his hand. "Sure. Your combat skills are... Okay," Ben answered indifferently, not intending to take the conversation further for the sixth time that night. But no matter how curt his scarce words came out, Rook didn't seem to take the hint.

The smile twitched downwards for a second. Rook sent the shorter boy a fleeting, concerned look before fixing his gaze on the road ahead once again, only then considering the possibility of Ben not being in the mood to talk. "I apologise for faking after I got shot. I truly believed it was a good distraction," he insisted.

Ben didn't even turn this time. "No problem," he said, his voice a little muffled. "I kinda knew you were faking."

"How strange. You sounded overly worried."

Another roll of eyes plus a huff. "Well, yeah, I'm not a monster." Ben moved his hand to the back of his skull, throwing his head back and settling his dull gaze on the current driver as he massaged his scalp. "And it's not like I was that worried."

The bitterness in his tone didn't go unnoticed. Rook tried for real to let it slip, but not a trace of the previous smile managed to persist. "You are not content with our partnership in the least, are you?"

"No, it isn't that." Ben straightened his neck and sighed at the mild yet obvious hurt tone. His features softened at the sudden lack of mirth in Rook's face. Maybe he had been a little too harsh. "Not my intention to offend. Don't take it personal. From what I saw, you're a rather... Cool partner and all," he explained, sounding genuinely sorry, not visibly showing it. "It's just -I was looking forward to going on solo, you know."

"Yes, I am aware. Forgive me for changing your plans."

"Chill out, what's done it's done. I'll get used to this eventually, I guess."

Rook nodded in spite of not being convinced, his eyes losing brightness in deep dejection. Ben's reluctance honestly was a shame. He halted the truck at the nearby red light and released the steering wheel, taking the opportunity to face the younger teen and speak his mind. "As time goes by, Ben, I am sure you will realise that teamwork can be better than being alone."

"Dude. . ."

"Especially now that we are partners. I take this seriously; helping you is my main task. No matter what, as long as I am by your side, I will always stand up for you."

Ben wasn't looking back at the Revonnahgander, but eyes weren't necessary to sense Rook's determination. In fact, perhaps that was what pushed Ben to lock gazes with him. "It sounds like a promise, and you shouldn't make promises you don’t know you’ll be able to keep in the end."

"I will keep it, Ben. Trust me."

The young hero opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again shortly after, defeated. There was just something impossible to deny behind Rook's words, not to mention that everything about him as he spoke like that was simply... Breath-taking. Ben shook the weird thought away. "Whatever," he said stubbornly.

Rook bit his lower lip and feigned to lay hold of the steering wheel before dropping both hands to his thighs. "What about you?"

Ben raised a questioning eyebrow. "What about me?"

"Yes." The Revonnahgander leant his upper-body closer for a more intimate atmosphere, his afflicted eyes desperately searching for a vague trace of acknowledgement into Ben's. "Perhaps we are not so familiar, but I still cannot help wondering... Are you going to do the same for me?"

Ben felt a weak pang of guilt somewhere between his rib cage. "Geez, Rook, what's with that question?" he asked, sounding a little aloof despite the unusual feeling, his disinterested eyes flickering past the front window.

"Ben," Rook called out in a soft, anguished voice, successfully retrieving the hero's vision. They stared into each other for a brief moment until Rook finally gathered enough encouragement to ask, "Will you always stand up for me?"

Ben's lips parted slightly. Those gentle eyes looked hopeless, as if Rook were prepared for a negative answer. The sight alone made Ben feel like a bad guy. If only he could leave an emotionally harmless explanation, everything would be easier. But he barely knew this alien; it had been four days since Rook introduced himself, since Max, wise and good-intentioned Max had placed this burden on Ben’s shoulders. Future was clearly out of his control, Ben just didn't. . .

He pressed his lips together and turned his head quickly. "I don't know," he said sternly, looking out the window. "Maybe this won't last, maybe our partnership is temporal." Ben rested his elbow on the door, his chin on his palm and repeated, colder than before, "I don't know."

In his peripheral vision, the young hero saw his partner go still, as if he were struggling to process Ben's words, until the light turned green. Rook slowly straightened up, placed both hands at each side of the steering wheel, and pulled off carefully.

They were silent for the rest of the road.

.

Fate could prove oneself wrong in the most ironic way sometimes.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut at the distant memory and shoved his hands onto his face, digging his head further into the pillow.

Almost two years had gone by since that regrettable conversation, and he still wasn't capable of getting over it. Instead of putting his pride first, Ben should have at the very least admitted his obvious worry, as well as he should have admitted, through the last couple of years, other certain issues that were currently beginning to cause too much overwhelming inner trouble.

On the surface, Ben didn't have any reasons to complain about life. He was a hero who willingly hadn't had a girlfriend for more than a year, with an enjoyable, thrilling, well-paid job which, thanks to the rest of the Plumbers guided by his grandfather, offered enough lazy moments to spend playing video-games, hanging out with his parents and grandpa Max, meeting Gwen and Kevin on weekends and lounging around with... The coolest partner... Right after kicking some evil butts.

But Ben's principal conviction was that life without a burden to carry around wasn't real life. Everybody had issues, no matter how small, and the wielder of the Omnitrix wouldn't be the exception just because he was the famous hero.

Ever since middle-school, Ben had believed that nobody knew him better than himself, and that his personal identity would never be called into question, let alone if he thought those key facets that shaped his character had been absolutely accurate during adolescence. Deep inside, though, after pondering about it and looking back in time like he regularly did, recalling an infinity of moments with each recent woman to whom he had been romantically linked, then somehow ending up comparing them with random moments in Rook's company, Ben gathered enough courage to stop living a lie.

True realisation hit him very late, and he finally understood, and more importantly, accepted why his relationships with both Ester and Kai hadn’t work, why he covertly hadn’t wanted them to work. The track leading him to who he really was had long become unclear. Ben had thoughtlessly made the bad decision of ignoring each doubt and letting the signs pass, and now his acts were taking their toll. Restlessness increased and hidden feelings grew unbeatably stronger, until he started failing at denying them in the most miserable way possible.

The fact that he had spent almost a whole year alone, the sudden loss of interest in having a girl by his side – it all had an explanation.

Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, teen idol, iconic world hero and protector of the Omnitrix, had been gradually falling for his partner. His strong, handsome, irritatingly polite partner.

And it hurt. It hurt an awful lot. It hurt even more than any prior beating, ached a thousand more times than each broken up relationship.

It had been nearly two years ago since he’d opted for disregarding both the odd pressure on his chest and the uneasy churning within the pit of his stomach whenever he spotted Rook before a new mission. Nearly two years of countless nights shaking away those mildly suggestive, short-lived dreams in which he would wake up panting if stuff appeared to be getting out of control; nearly two years without acknowledging the warm, pleasurable feel that racked his entire body whenever Rook got closer than necessary.

Two years of trying to avoid the unavoidable.

Ben should have known better. One just didn't mistake friendly affection for a crush. How was it that a lame argument like 'I only feel way too comfortable around him' had been enough to believe his own lie so blindly? Ben didn't know who he was anymore. He had never took interest in men before and now... He liked a male? A male alien? Was he still attracted to women? Or did he like men and women?

Heck, did he even like humans?

Everything was confusing, unexpected, harrowing. Not only had he developed a presumable crush on a friend of the opposite sex, no. He had developed a crush on a straight male friend he met practically every single day of his life. There was nothing to expect. In the end, if Ben was willing to acknowledge these feelings didn't matter.

So what if he admitted those feelings to himself? After a whole year embracing them, Ben wished to confess and take that heavy weight off his chest. But he couldn't face Rook and tell him such weird things. Accidental stares with glorious adoration shining in his eyes as though Rook were some sort of saint was already creepy enough. A confession would turn the air overly awkward, would ruin their priceless friendship, their unique partnership. What if Rook insulted Ben or shied away from him? God, what if he decided to change partners to wriggle out the dense tension? Ben wouldn't handle losing him. The mere thought mirrored the pain of a terminal disease, much like this pointless thinking!

Ben’s personal crisis always boiled down to one heart-breaking conclusion: in romantic aspects, unless someone else appeared, nothing was awaiting him ahead.

Ben had to get used to the feeling for once, had to get used to hold his tongue and bottle up each detail without exploding and blurting out the delicate fondness he was experiencing. If he had managed to keep his usual 'dude-attitude' towards Rook since the very beginning and throughout this last year of partnership, then Ben was definitely capable of controlling and repressing his emotions, however painful, in order to protect this perfect bond.

It was all about limits. For their partnership's sake, Ben would begin to silently enjoy those tingly moments in which their shoulders touched while watching random videos on the internet, to take advantage of the Omnitrix and tease Rook during a friendly training just to see that frowning, lovely expression, and to relish those idle hours in Undertown that flew by as they hung out, sharing a laugh, brushing legs, and now and then, perhaps, arguing a little bit. . .

Clinging to all those small details that slowly brought them close and learning to face this upsetting reality seemed like the best idea. The relationship had to stay professional and comradely on Ben's side, because before anything else, they were partners and a couple of good friends. Never mind emotional distress, never mind fluttering butterflies in his stomach. No one in the universe had the ability to make Ben feel so fully at ease, and he wouldn't, by any means, risk such a valuable person.

_"...Are you going to do the same for me?"_

So many words he could have picked up, so many ways to explain. Ben felt his heart shrink, wishing with all his being that he had answered differently. A promising ‘I’ll try’, a smile and a flattering ‘dude, with your awesome hand-to-hand combat skills, no one has to stand up for you’. Anything would have better than looking away, distant and ungrateful.

He looked into the sparse cracks of his room's ceiling as if he might find solace in its dark pattern.

The compromising question echoed through his mind one last time.

_"Will you always stand up for me?"_

Ben shifted onto his side and squeezed his aching chest.

"Yes," he whispered, "I'll always stand up for you."


	2. It Comes With Partnership

He was doing it again.

Ben was actually staring at _him_ from across the room. _Again_.

Not with a stupid or dreamy expression typical of films, no. Ben had long become a master at feigning boredom or relaxation for his fondness to go unnoticed. A blank face adorned by bright green eyes expertly hiding away uneasy adoration was all he had to offer, and he was sure it was enough to conceal any kind of hint.

With nothing to fear, he let his gaze sweep over each one of the facial features before him, admiring delicately that pair of vivid cat-like eyes, tracing those beautiful black markings, treasuring the breath-taking sight in the core of his memory. Insanely craving the touch of those large, strong hands...

Ben bit his lower lip and breathed in through his nose. Sometimes his thoughts could get too excited when they approached the danger zone.

Folding his arms across his chest, Ben leaned further onto the wall behind and exhaled loudly, his eyes glued to the delightful Revonnahgander in front as he did everything within emotional reach to collect his sinful mind.

He kept on watching in cautious fascination the way Rook's lips pressed together into a weak pout while his hands worked on the Proto-Tool, his concentration along with his fingers engaged passionately in fixing, testing, altering and exploring the weapon after two, two years of ownership.

Curious green eyes landed on the item in question and the stare didn't hesitate to become a glare. Ben was pretty sure he’d been watching enough to make someone feel uncomfortable, and yet Rook was so incredibly focused on that goddamn thing that he hadn't even gazed back yet. _You've been touching that piece of crap too much and too long, aren't you sick and tired of it?_

The wielder of the Omnitrix mentally slapped his face and looked away, ashamed of his pitiful self. Being jealous of inanimate objects such as a multifunctional weapon undoubtedly exceeded the limits.

Click.

His eyes flickered up to the alien. Rook laid the tiny tool on the lab table next to the rest of scattered Galvan tools with strange names that Ben wouldn’t get to memorize even in a parallel universe.

After inclining the weapon at various angles to get a closer look, Rook placed the object back on his shoulder, then glanced at his younger partner leaning on the wall. The unreadable expression he found on Ben aroused some worry, and to his surprise, the boy was also glancing back.

"You are unusually quiet."

Ben's heart skipped a beat once their gazes met, but Earth be damned if he was going to expose those treacherous nerves. He shrugged them off and cooled down instead. "Often happens when I'm bored, you of all people should know that."

"I am familiar with your tendency to become uninterested easily," Rook countered cleverly, intending to demonstrate how much he got to know his friend over time. "However, you have the appearance of a thoughtful person, which I must add, is quite worthy of attention."

"Well, I– Hey! What do you mean by 'worthy of attention'?" Ben had suddenly gone from a casual tone to barking and mimicking quotation marks. "Just so you know, I actually was bored, but apart from that I _was_ thinking."

Rook tilted his head to the side, amazed. Was it possible for Ben to be thinking about other than junk food and his precious games of Sumo Slammers? "Allow me to reiterate... That is unusual. May I ask for more details?"

Ben swallowed hard, but handled keeping his cool and slipped both hands into the pockets of his hooded jacket to prove it. "Don't make a fuss over nothing. I was just..." _'Thinking about how amazingly attractive you are...'_ "Just thinking you shouldn't modify that thing so much." He nodded at the Proto-Tool with abhorrence. "It's got lots of functions installed. You even use it as a fishing rod. What else do you need? A toaster?"

"An electrical appliance designed to toast different types of breads would not be effective in combats. Furthermore, I was only making some minor adjustments."

"Yeah, right." Ben pushed his back away from the wall, a lazy move that somehow looked like it demanded too much effort. "I guess you're done now, aren't you?"

A feeble sigh. "Unfortunately, no. I shall ask Blukic and Driva for help."

"Or since you suck at this only a bit less than them," the teenager teased, a smirk forming on his lips, "You should call your little brother. He's ten times better than you and certainly twenty times better than Blukic and Driva, together."

Rook took the offensive joke lightly, fighting down a chuckle. "You did not have to stay here waiting."

"Oh, I did have to," Ben informed eagerly, as if it were an evident point of fact. "Because it's Friday night and we're going to get something good to eat!"

A resigned, cordial smile worked its way across Rook's face. "Ben, today is Wednesday."

The hero blinked, momentarily bewildered, though he dismissed the new data with a mere flicker of his wrist. "Let it be Wednesday night then, but I won't go home and eat whatever mom is cooking. Lately, she's been preparing more weird dishes than ever."

"I cannot understand your disgust. The meals Mrs. Tennyson makes are absolutely delicious."

"See? That's why she's constantly telling me to bring you home! She loves cooking for you! It's a sick mutual thing," Ben commented, partly twisting the truth to his convenience. He refused to tell the other part of the story, which included Sandra revealing that her affinity for the Plumber was bound exclusively to his well-mannered nature and how it may influence her son through the years. Ben was sure it would make that proud, kind smile set right in front of his eyes all the more stunning. And hell, his uncontrollable hormones didn't need any form of stimulation at the time. So he stopped talking about the matter before Rook had the chance to comment and headed to the door, motioning for his partner to follow him. "Come on! I'm starving."

"Eating at your favourites places has become a habit," the Revonnahgander pointed out, walking closely behind. "We did it on Monday and several times in the past week."

Ben smiled and looked at him over his shoulder. If only Rook knew how much he enjoyed eating out with him. After two years, most people would probably begin to tire of spending every single day with the same person. Ben, on the other hand, seemed to never get enough of Rook's company. It was a relief that at the end of each day, the alien would gladly accept to spend one or two more hours together. "You've never turned down one of my invitations. Are you complaining now?"

"Of course not. I simply think that you will not be able to avoid your mother's food for the rest of your life."

The automatic door slid open. That excuse had worked for real, masking the hero's intentions perfectly. Ben fixed his line of vision on the front and chortled, playing along, "I can try." He was about to cross the threshold, but halted and stepped back at the abrupt emergence of his grandfather, causing the alien behind to bump into him. Ben collected himself quickly and was the first one greeting the man. "Hey, grandpa. Working late at night?"

Max raised his eyebrows in what could be labelled as astonishment. "Ben? I thought you were on your way home. What are you doing here?"

By extending a thumb over his shoulder, Ben directed Max's attention to his partner. "The kitten was playing with his ball of yarn. I was waiting for him to finish."

This time the pair of eyebrows furrowed and Max sent Rook a questioning glance, whose main response was a puzzled blink and a curt shrug. "I am as confused as you are, Magister Tennyson."

"We're going to get something to eat," Ben announced, oblivious to the misunderstanding, conveniently re-drawing his grandfather's attention. "Wanna join?"

Perhaps the idea of asking Max to go with them was rather pointless since his culinary techniques and recipes were as eccentric as Sandra's unsavoury dishes, but hey, family was family.

Max flashed a faint smile that just wasn't enough to trick Ben. "Thank you kiddo, but Patelliday and I have already eaten," Max said gently, eyeing both plumbers. Before his gaze fell upon him for a second time, the wielder of the Omnitrix noticed the drastic change on his grandfather's face. His expression hovered between seriousness and something that Ben couldn't put his finger on. "Listen, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a conversation with Rook… In private, that is."

Ben's gaze widened. He shared a stunned, fleeting look with his partner. "Why? What happens?" The hand landing on his shoulder prevented Ben from asking more questions. He didn't need to look back to understand what Rook was trying to express. Satisfied with the warm squeeze of reassurance to his shoulder, he nodded. "Sorry. None of my business. I'll be waiting at the end of the hall."

The hand slid down to the middle of his back in the most inconspicuous manner, and as he walked around Max and out of the room, Ben could have sworn by Alien X that Rook had definitely caressed him.

In the meantime, Max took the remaining step, enabling the door the slide shut. His features twisted into ones of sheer concern.

Rook had no problem noticing. "Is something wrong, sir?"

The older Plumber ran a hand over his worried face. "Unluckily, yes. I come bearing bad news for you," Max started, his tone that of an experienced man talking to his beloved grandson. "I assume you're aware that your sister is visiting your home-world and that she is supposed to come back before the weekend..." Rook gave a slow, rigid nod. Max pursed his lips and plucked up courage to speak out. "Well, a moment ago she managed to contact us. She's not coming back, Rook, or at least not soon."

The Revonnahgander's anxious gaze was unable to focus on anything around him but Max. "Unconventional behaviour has been perceived among your people and she's currently staying to try and investigate the cases," the older man explained, showing both sympathy and firmness as he came to the point. "According to Shar, a large number of residences have been broken into, entire families have been disappearing at random without leaving a trace, and some farmers have been found... Dead, in remote fields and near their respective homes – families in general are going through fits of nerves. Who or what is causing this to happen is unknown and so are the reasons to those horrible murders, but your sister is determined to find and fight the source of these unforgiven crimes. And she contacted us, because she needs you by her side to do it."

The delicacy Max had put into the tragic explanation was of no use. He couldn't recall seeing a living being so horrified in the past. The spirit of one of his finest Plumbers was no longer present.

Rook was disturbingly aghast, his gaze lost somewhere down the floor, clouded by a fog of raw confusion and evident disbelief. The idea of a whole family disappearing made him feel sick. The thought of lifeless bodies lying around his beautiful planet was shattering. His lips parted, but the shocked stare persisted and words simply wouldn't come out. How could someone even think of doing such terrible things to his dear, peaceful people? Who or what was responsible for those atrocities?

_Why...?_

Two supportive hands took hold of Rook’s shoulders and he finally looked up at Max. "Rook, I know this is unexpected and complicated, and I also know your home-world and people mean a lot for both you and Shar, but don't be alarmed. I'll send my best teams with you and Ben in case–"

"No!"

Rook immediately stood tall and pinched the bridge of his nose in regret. "Pardon me, my reaction was inappropriate, I should have not interrupted. But I believe, Magister, that it would be better if my sister and I were in charge. My people are not used to the presence of outsiders yet and... I do not wish to be ungrateful–"

"Don't apologize, I understand. When Shar only asked for you, I suspected this," Max hastened to say with the warmest sympathy, his worry unconcealed. "But you must understand as well, that I can't let you take this upon yourself. It doesn't have to be a solo-mission. We have no idea about who's behind these crimes. We're at disadvantage, and sitting around has never been an option for us. I won't let you go alone without trying to convince you first... And neither will Ben."

Ben.

An infinity of likely reactions crossed the Revonnahgander's mind. His eyelids fell shut. Explaining this situation to his partner would be hard. Leaving him, harder still.

"Rook, what if we do whatever it takes to go unnoticed? What if we don't interfere between your people and their lives?"

The alien's eyes flew open at the question. "Magister, I appreciate your good intentions, but neither my sister nor I can afford to do this to our people. That must be the reason why she did not ask for the Plumbers' help. Crimes not often take place in Revonnah and we rarely see any outsiders. Our people, our family... They need to stay calm."

Max backed away and shook his hands gently. He had done the right thing by not sending anyone yet. "Please, don't continue. It's your decision and I'll respect it. If you believe this is the best, no matter how much it hurts me to risk such excellent Plumbers, we'll do it your way." He dragged his gaze away wistfully. "Replacing you two while you’re gone will be much of a tough challenge. I remember that I'd spent hours reading file stack after file stack until I came across your personal data. And now I shall find Ben a new, temporary partner."

Rook didn’t fight the urge to frown. Mere minutes ago, there was no likelihood that any other Plumber would steal his hard-earned place next to the greatest world hero, and a while later he had no other choice than to give away the position.

In one thousandth of a second, a flood of gratifying memories, plenty of everyday moments, raced through his mind like the scenes of a film. Just Ben and him, fighting side by side while they watched each other's back; drinking a smoothie to celebrate accomplished missions; training together in order to enhance their hand-to-hand combat skills; trying out different types of food that Ben would most likely end up hating; playing Ben's favourite video-games and seeing senseless movies based on them...

Sitting close to each other somewhere at Undertown as they talk about random subjects ranging from bizarre Internet photos to past threats, cultural diversity, religion, and then somehow moving to bickers over Ben's attitude and strong arguments about his overuse of the Omnitrix...

Ah, it didn't matter how many times they argued, both would normally wind up in silence, like a mutual, subtle apologize. The distance between their spots would shorten unintentionally until their legs and arms touched, and at last Ben would dismiss their trivial little quarrel, start a new conversation, prod his partner playfully, smile at him, and that would be enough for Rook to cool down.

So deep in memories, the Plumber almost smiled back at the mental image of the younger human.

But when he thought about those moments being invaded by someone else... No, just no. Those were their regular activities, their behaviours toward each other. No one else's. Rook didn't want another Plumber, whether human or alien, to replace him as a partner, let alone to replace him as an intimate. Since he was a successor, Gwen and Kevin had always been more than welcome by the Revonnahgander, but adding a new member to the occasional team in order to supplant him was certainly another story. Rook was balling both fists against his sides even before thinking further about the issue.

He unclenched them as quickly, however, when Max's worried voice brought him back to the present. "Do you have a plan? When are you leaving?"

Rook forced his mind to shake the emotions away. Revonnah was far more important than uncalled-for indignation. "Tonight. Right now," he replied straightaway. "As for my plan, it solely consists in doing everything within my reach to restore our home-world's peaceful order."

"Are you sure about this?" Max insisted, "We can always help you to gather information at least, so you may think of a specific plan."

"For the time being, it is just the two of us. If Shar and I lose control over the situation, I promise we will communicate with you immediately."

No case. The alien was way too determined. Max clearly got less than what he had been bargaining for, and yet..."That's good to hear." He patted Rook's shoulder in a friendly, rough manner. "Remember, should you need help, we'll always be at your disposal."

"Thank you, Magister."

"And don't worry about Ben. He's going to understand."

Rook nodded and allowed himself the pleasure of smiling a bit. It was true. Ben had changed considerably over the past two years. Perhaps, he would really understand.

.

"ARE YOU NUTS? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE GOING ALONE? YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME TO SIT AROUND AFTER TELLING ME THIS!"

"Please, Ben, would you–"

"No! I'm not hearing you out! I can't believe you're asking me to stay! Don't you know me? We've been sticking together for two goddamn years!"

"I have a reason! My people, especially my family–"

"Don't give me that! I've been on Revonnah more times than I can remember, they all must be used to my presence by now! Your siblings treat me like a member of the family!"

The few nearby passers-by gave their nastiest looks.

Rook rubbed his neck awkwardly upon facing the glare of a male elder. "Ben, you are yelling. Calm down."

"I won't just calm down dude! There's no way in hell I'm letting you go alone! This isn't a solo-mission! What are you playing at?! What are you trying to demonstrate?!"

Rook sighed and tried to look smaller. Telling Ben about his departure outside Plumber's HQ had unquestionably been a terribly bad idea. With his head already throbbing, Rook squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his fingers across the lids then out to massage his temples. He had been preparing for a refusal, yes, but not for one this noisy. "I am not trying to demonstrate anything," he forced the slow, soft answer. "Do not insist Ben. My decision is made and it will remain as such."

"Oh, come on!" the hero exclaimed, flicking his wrist in an incensed gesture. "I've already helped your people and family twice. I remember that your dad didn't want me there the first time, but you had no problem with that! I even stayed at your home for some days last month! Why is it so different now?!"

"This time is different because several inhabitants are either disappearing or dying. Perhaps things are the way you describe them, perhaps most Revonnahganders are accustomed to your frequent visits and transformations, but that does not mean they feel comfortable in your presence."

Ben stomped closer and stretched to his limit, causing the Plumber to return to his normal height. "Really? That's your excuse? You worry more about your people's feelings than fixing the mess?"

Stubborn and insensitive as usual. When had this become an argument? Contrary to what Rook had been thinking, it seemed not too much had changed in two years. Rook couldn't tell whether he was disappointed or angry at the words reaching his ears. He leaned towards the second one and also towards Ben, however, when his own voice automatically escalated into a yell. The fact that they were in public didn't stop him. "Do not attach little importance to their displeasure!"

"Well, it is more important that we sort this out!"

"Oh, I cannot believe you are still this...!" Rook took a step back and refrained from shouting something unpleasant. He had no time to argue. If Ben didn't want a proper parting –no matter how painful– then so be it. "I was hoping we could have a cordial farewell, but apparently that is not your intention." Rook whipped around and strode down the pavement, muttering coldly under his breath, "I wish you good luck."

The weight of his attitude came crashing down on Ben with the force of a maul. He rushed in the same direction and seized Rook's forearm without a second thought. "Wait, no, wait!"

Rook tensed and turned grudgingly. "I have no time to argue!"

"All right, all right, I'm sorry. You're anxious, you want to leave as soon as possible, I get it, just... Let's have this conversation once more. Before you leave, let me do this right."

A stern glare was the response.

Ben's heart sank at the sight. Even though he deserved it, those kind eyes being so awfully serious when not fixed on criminals seemed wrong. "Please, I'm asking for five more minutes, that's all."

There was a brief moment of silence before Rook finally gave him the nod. "I am listening."

Rook pulled his arm away slowly and Ben straightened his spine, fumbling for proper words. "Why shouldn't I go with you this time?" he asked more carefully.

Any remnant of anger faded to nothing at the low, tentative voice; Ben was putting a great deal of effort into their presumable goodbye. "The present state of affairs are of grave concern," the Revonnahgander explained again, loosening up a little but simultaneously keeping a stern stance. "Fistrick and the Incurseans did little damage compared to this unknown threat. Several farmers, including their children, have been disappearing and found dead in most cases. Family means everything to my people, Ben. If I am aware that you as well as any other different living form may disturb them, then I had better avoid taking someone with me because..." Rook paused and looked away. Ben's expression had twisted into one of sharp grief. Was the message coming out too harsh?

A pang of guilt shot through him. He tilted his head, defeated. "I do not want to cause my people and family further emotional distress."

"But that's...!" Ben hold his tongue and pressed a fist to his mouth. He didn't have to make the same mistake over and over to learn from it. "Don't you realise what you are asking me to do?"

"Yes. I am asking you to respect my decision, for my family's sake."

Ben shook his head firmly. "You're asking me to stay out of this."

"...Exactly."

Ben stood there, dumbfounded, his mind in a spiral of emotions. He was hurt, he was worried. He was not convinced. That explanation just wasn't enough for him, there had to be something else, there had to be a bigger reason. A keyword echoed through his mind. Family. And soon the image of a hugely respected male member suddenly crossed his thoughts. "You don't want my help because you're afraid of what your dad's going to say."

The erroneous conclusion left the Revonnahgander perplexed. That was by far the reaction less expected. "What? No, my father has nothing–"

"Be honest!"

Rook scowled, more at the interruption than at the side accusation. "Lying is not necessary for me."

"Your dad's objections aren't an excuse then. You think I'm buying that?"

"Well, it is... Not the main issue," the alien faltered the slightest bit. "His disapproval only aggravates the situation, but–"

"No more buts! Cut them off! Just admit that you don't want to take me because he doesn't want me there!"

A frustrated growl leaked out. Rook set his jaw. He was in no exact position to get angry. After all, Ben's reasoning was quite valid; the only member who barely tolerated the human was his father, and under these circumstances Rook was truly afraid of what Da may have to say. Since the very beginning, Ben had treat his father with all the due respect, whereas the latter had opted for glaring and making derogatory remarks whenever the opportunity arose. And if Rook had to be completely honest with Ben and himself, he doubted those attitudes would change anytime soon.

"I... I had no time to argue, Ben. I must leave."

"Hell, no!" Ben clutched his partner's arm hastily. "You aren't going anywhere without me!"

The arm Ben was gripping stiffened and he flinched, expecting to be either shoved or punched but still refusing to let go. As long as he could convince his friend, the idea of having a bruised cheek sounded petty.

Rook clenched his eyes shut and balled both fists, sighing stressfully, hoping his patience would last longer. "Release me."

"Not unless you agree to take me with you!"

Rook made a feeble, unsuccessful effort to free his arm as a low grunt came from the back of his throat. "That will not happen. Please, stop!"

"Dude, don't you get it? I can help your people, I can help you and Shar," Ben coaxed, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and fondness. "I want to protect your family by your side. "

The tension plaguing Rook's body faded as his hands eased off on their own. On the whole, he wasn't surprised about Ben caring so much for his family. Leaving Da aside, Ben actually got along with his younger siblings and his welcoming mother never protested whenever he planned to take Ben and stay for a couple of days. To top it all, the adoration reflected in that bright gaze made it official. In spite of the teen's accusation and the discomfort it brought, Rook wouldn't be totally able to lose his temper.

Which was frankly unacceptable.

He needed to snap at Ben. Instead of melting down right there, he needed to yank back his arm, storm away, get into his ship and leave. But it was easier said than done when Ben’s pleading eyes were looking so deep into his soul.

"You have your own place to protect," Rook insisted, "You have your own family, your own people."

"I'm the hero of the universe. Earth isn't my only concern." Ben grabbed his friend's shoulders and stepped closer. "You've helped Earth countless times, wouldn't it be fair that I returned the favour?"

"Please, I do not wish to discuss fairness when my people are currently being murdered," Rook pointed out sadly, removing the pair of hands as though they were the most fragile objects. "Due to prior visits, we all would appreciate it more if you stayed here."

"Look, I know I kinda messed up the first time we went to Revonnah. And the time after that, and the next and the next, but it really wasn't a big deal, was it?"

"Ben, the first time you caused the explosion of a silo."

"...We both know that was an accident."

"And what about your last visit? You attempted to pilot my ship and ruined an important part of our harvest in the process."

"Well, what were you expecting? I was learning to land that thing!"

Rook narrowed his eyes. "With my brother inside the ship?"

"Oh, for the love of God!" Ben threw his arms into the air. "Would you drop that? He suggested the idea! We were hellishly bored and–" Ben shut his mouth tightly and shook his head once. No time to beat around the bush. "Okay..." He pointed at the old factory behind them. "Sit."

Rook followed Ben's finger with his gaze. The first response was a quizzical grimace, though he reluctantly complied and squatted down, leaning his back against the brick wall and his much longer legs stretched. Ben sat cross-legged next to him until their arms and thighs came into contact.

A couple of painfully wordless minutes went by.

Neither of them protested, nor did they try to scoot away from each other. And yet, the thin veil of awkwardness surrounding them didn't allow Ben to demand the attention of Rook's gaze. He suddenly felt shy, as if his presence meant nothing but a nuisance and their reliance on each other had dispelled.

Ben found it quite hard to tell whether Rook would stay for five more minutes or stand up without a warning and leave. The hero could practically smell the alien's frustration and sense his refusal to lock eyes with him, and he wouldn't be entirely comfortable unless his friend looked back. "Like it or not, I'm going with you."

No answer came. Not a word, not a defiant glance.

"Dude, I'm dead serious." Ben took a firm grasp of Rook's arm, desperately searching for eye contact. "You may get mad, I'm sorry, but Ben Tennyson doesn't abandon friends."

His talking fell on deaf ears; the alien kept looking ahead, his thoughts drifting off into the silence of the gloomy night. Ben let go and placed both hands onto his thighs, dejected and unable to carry on speaking. Hopeless, he found fake interest in the concrete sidewalk. With each passing second, the pain nesting on Ben's chest intensified. Their arms and thighs were still touching, but despite the everyday warmness between them Rook had never appeared so distant, not even during frequent quarrels.

_Please, say something._

The infrequent noises of vehicles and far-off urban sounds filled Ben's ears for quite a while. His chest felt smaller. Was that all? Was that their good-bye?

_Come on, say something. Anything!_

It had been two years of friendship, what if Rook decided to stay in Revonnah? Hell, what if something happened to him? It couldn't end like that. It shouldn't!

 _Please, I'm begging you! You... you..._ "You can't leave like this. If you're leaving now, at least don't leave _me_ like this."

Now Rook did turn his neck at Ben. If the shaky voice didn’t serve as a signal of Ben’s pain, then the little contact between their bodies did. Rook actually felt the shudder midsentence. Closer inspection confirmed all suspicions, or rather, the slow yet agitated rise and fall of Ben's chest. His eyes might have hold back the rising dampness, remaining somewhat dull and inexpressive, but the rest of his trembling body had betrayed him, and Rook found the scene plainly devastating.

Never mind background reasons and excuses, the Revonnahgander felt as if he had to beg for his friend’s forgiveness. Ben was right, they weren't two strangers, he couldn't depart like that for an indefinite period of time and walk away without turning back.

It was a shame that the knot in the Rook's throat wouldn't allow the simple articulation of words. He would have loved to reveal how much he was suffering too, how much it hurt to have his goals, those childhood dreams he’d been pursuing against his father’s will ever since adolescence, crushed by the misery of his people. More than anything, Rook would have loved to let Ben know that he, too, treasured their partnership as much as he appreciated his job, and that not even back home he’d had a friendship completely based on straightforwardness, firm trust, and such comfortable level of physical intimacy.

But it was yet more frustrating that he couldn't bring himself to reach out and pull Ben into his arms like he desperately wanted to do. An embrace would demonstrate a whole lot more than words.

Unluckily, they weren't the kind of friends who hugged frequently. There had been a few wonderful times, three or four occasions in which both had shared a warm manly embrace, but the height difference made it pretty difficult for Rook. He normally had to fight the urge to rest his chin on top of Ben's head. This particular position was no exception.

So he did nothing.

Ben turned to the side sharply at the lingering lack of responses, tearing his emotionless eyes away and furiously wiping the excess of water before it fell. "This is unbelievable. I-I can't stay here while you and your sister put yourselves in danger."

"Ben,” Rook eventually dared to say, “I am well aware that your intentions are those of a loyal friend. Nevertheless, this is the only thing I am asking you to do."

"Well, I'm sorry. I won't do it," the stubborn hero stated, his voice regaining some strength as his impassive eyes flickered up to Rook, trying to find a reason he could genuinely believe in. "Tell me the truth, if I were the one going on solo, wouldn't you insist to come with me, too?"

The question clearly struck a nerve.

Rook forced himself to frown. "Of course I would, but that is not the case here and I do not have the time to consider hypothetical situations! There are real matters demanding my attention!" He rose to his feet at once. "I have been patient enough. Since you are lacking relevant arguments, I will assume that our dispute is over." With one last grim look, he turned away. "Excuse me."

"What? No! Don't go yet!"

Within seconds, Ben was standing in the middle of his friend's way, pressing both palms against his armoured chest and pushing him back obstinately.

Rook bared his teeth at the boy, his blood reaching its boiling point when he staggered backwards. His anxiety and exasperation were mirrored in his narrow gaze as he roughly reached out and took a heavy hold of Ben's undersized shoulders, who had to press the soles of his feet to the ground and grasp Rook's hands in order to fight his strength.

"Dude, what are you doing? I want to help you!"

He pushed the Revonnahgander once more to no avail. In the end, Rook easily managed to get past him and in the direction of HQ.

"This doesn't make sense! All I want is to protect your home!" Ben shouted uselessly at Rook's tall figure, his voice echoing around the block. "I'm not trouble, I'm not your enemy! I'm your partner, your freaking best friend!"

But the firmness in the alien's long strides didn't falter.

For a moment, the idea of using the Omnitrix as a mean of persuasion crossed Ben's mind, but he doubted the result would be a favourable one. He wanted to convince his partner to let him help, not to delay Rook much longer and worsen his temper.

As he watched the Revonnahgander walk away, the intensity of Ben's voice to keep yelling died out along the remaining little hope. His line of sight brimmed with tears, tears he wouldn’t shed but that still were there, clouding his eyes. "Don't leave me like this," he muttered blankly, more to himself than for the alien ahead to hear.

Which was precisely why Ben's heart almost froze when Rook rooted his feet to the pavement and spun around to face him. He momentarily forgot about Rook's outstanding hearing. One needs more than five meters to fool his ears, and certainly more than five meters to fool those heedful eyes. The glisten in Ben's gaze wouldn’t be unobserved. It only stood out, contrasting with the rest of his expressionles facial features.

"Do not make this harder than it has to be," Rook nearly pleaded, on the verge of feeling like garbage.

Ben blinked the bothersome liquid away. "You are the one making this harder," he said, his voice flat in comparison. "All you should care about is to find a solution and soon, accepting all the help you can muster."

"I-it is not like that, they will be disturbed–"

"I promise I won't abuse of the Omnitrix."

Now those words did catch Rook off guard.

"What?"

"You heard me, I won't abuse of the Omnitrix," Ben repeated as he shortened the distance to a couple of inches. "I'll use this watch only if it comes handy, you won't have to worry about my behaviour or my attitudes."

"...What you are saying is hard to believe."

"Well, I'll do that and more."

"No, I am not sure. What if your presence and the Plumbers–"

"Rook, for now we're okay on our own. Unless you say otherwise, we'll manage to put an end to those killings with the help of your sister, your people..." The boy lifted the Omnitrix wrist. "And this, but only when you really think it’s necessary."

Rook contemplated the powerful watch for a brief period of time, uncertainty still gnawing away his answers. He dragged his gaze away.

Ben didn't hold back. His hands reached up and rested on each side of the alien's face, successfully bringing back the attention of his amber eyes. "Come on, I'm not even asking you to take all the Plumbers plus their kids and pets with you, I'm just asking you to take me."

"Are you actually going to leave Earth without a protector?"

"Well, hello, what are the Plumbers and my grandpa for? And we can't forget about the happy couple. Earth also counts on Gwen and Kevin."

There was a tiny smile tugging at the end of Ben's lips. Rook noticed, but perhaps he was far too tired of thinking to enjoy the alluring sight. His eyelids fell shut as the unusually soft hands were removed from his cheeks by his own larger ones. Rook couldn't wait anymore to witness the state of his planet. The suggestion still didn't sound convincing. He knew there would be some trouble, but at any rate, and despite the rest of his race and family, he wanted to be in Ben's company

So he eventually agreed to take the human with him by adding one last, reluctant warning. "Do not expect my people to act polite."

Ben's hope and confidence were restored in a jiffy. He barely handled fighting the growing smile of contentment. "Dude, that won't be a problem. I'm a respected hero and the worst nightmare for villains, courtesy comes and goes!" And with that, the hero headed to the base. "Prepare your awesome ship," he said enthusiastically, walking backwards, almost jogging. "I'll go and have a small talk with grandpa before leaving!"

Rook gave a stiff nod and offered back a weak smile. "Be quick."

Once Ben spun around and started running forwards, the faint smile proceeded to fade. Rook followed the boy at his own pace, avoiding regretful thoughts and rushed assumptions, and hoping they could find the wrongdoers without causing more agitation among his people.


	3. First Blood

After asking Grandpa Max to inform his parents about his departure and bidding farewell to him, Ben ventured into space with his partner. He had to admit it, he did feel quite guilty for not facing his parents and explaining the situation, but Ben honestly didn't want any other delay, nor did he want to listen to Carl and Sandra's paternal worries. He doubted they would let him go if the details of this new threat would have been mentioned, as well as he doubted Rook would have waited for the argument to finish and for his parent's permission to leave. The idea sounded both abusive and selfish, and Ben was glad Max hadn't insisted on it.

The ride was going by mostly in fraught silence. Ben could sense his friend's anxious hurry to reach his home in the harsh way he handled the controls of his beloved ship even after getting inside the planet's atmosphere.

Ben looked out the window and examined the passing sight. Just like that time the Incurseans had brain-washed many households, the outlying villages were visibly fine and the landscape remained as beautiful and lively as ever. Nothing seemed to be out of place from distance, but that little fact wouldn't trick the pair again. They were experienced enough to know that there weren't worse trouble than those one couldn't initially perceive.

It wasn't until one familiar village came into view that Rook loosened his strong grip on the steering wheel. In his peripheral vision, Ben noticed the mild change in his friend's tense posture as he descended the ship onto the one of the platforms located a few yards away from his place. Rook Shar stood near the sector in her regular farmer dress, her arms folded edgily over her chest and her features, much like her brother's, displaying unhealthy concern and sad bitterness even when the only source of help she was fully willing to accept landed next to her.

Once Rook got out the ship, the Plumber Cadet lost all interest in the spacecraft. She dropped her arms at once and ran up to wrap them feebly around him, more like a token of gratitude than a welcoming gesture. Shar rested her head on his shoulder, looking for alleviation, and Rook returned the needed embrace until she decide to pull away, offering a weak smile.

"It took you a while, but I am sure you set off as soon as you managed. Thank you for coming alone."

Rook flinched slightly. He opened his mouth to confess, but a sound made by the other door slamming shut interfered with his speech. Ben walked around the ship and was immediately within view before Rook could explain.

Shar's expression fell as she turned to her brother. "Blonko! Did you not comprehend the ulterior purpose behind my message? Why did you bring Ben with you?"

Her brother tried to speak up again. "I..."

"I insisted on coming," Ben interrupted defensively, making a self-effacing approach to the siblings. "I'm sorry if my presence bothers you, I just must help you two."

Of course, the alien girl didn't look convinced. She scowled at the taller Revonnahgander without discretion. "You will be responsible for any potential commotion related to this." 

Ouch. That actually hurt Ben a little. "You know, it doesn't have to be that way. Not everything I do means trouble."

Rook cleared his throat to draw back his sister's attention. "We have discussed this subject. Ben promised he would only use the Omnitrix in urgent matters."

Shar eased off considerably at the information, but the modest anger in her gaze didn't dispel. She set her eyes on Rook for an instant, then stared viciously at Ben. Her appearance eventually eased off too, though, and she gave a resigned, heavy sigh. "If that is the case..." she trailed off, processing their assurance, forcing the best expectations to engulf her brain. "...Then I have to appreciate your intention, Ben."

The human noticed Shar's evident disinclination, but her gratitude still sounded sincere and real. "You're welcome, I guess."

Rook looked around. It was strange that the rest of his siblings hadn't come out to greet them. "Where is our family? Are they all right?"

"Yes. They are about to have a meal, inside. We will be joining them."

"Hey, first things first. Wouldn't it be better if we skipped lunch?" Ben suggested, sensing his partner's hidden yet growing impatience as the female Plumber began to walk away. "We should carry out an investigation here and perhaps check on the neighbours, don't you think?"

"Ben is right, sister. I am not willing to waste more time. If our village is in danger, then we shall intervene forthwith."

Shar went rigid at their careless words. She spun sharply and rushed back to place a hand before Rook's mouth softly, casting a cautious glance over her shoulder. She relaxed after not seeing any relative out. "This village has not been attacked in any way yet," she whispered loudly, turning again. "And that is all the information I can impart at the moment. Father is the only member of the family who is aware of these crimes, and he strictly instructed me to leave our siblings and mother out of this."

"Hold on, you mean they don't know about this killing spree?" Ben asked in a hushed tone, amazed. "But such things as murders don't happen every day here. It won't be long before the news reaches their ears."

Rook nodded in agreement. Since the major part of the farmers were in contact, most hearsays spread fast among them, let alone if the rumours consisted more of warnings than trivial gossip. "Neighbours tend to divulge alarming occurrences provided by acquaintances. The entire family will find out someday."

"Your theory is highly probable. However, these are father's orders and I cannot fail to obey. He will reveal the true state of affairs, but all in due course. He merely does not wish to disturb them, not just yet."

"So this is going to remain private till further notice," Ben concluded.

"If that is the way you choose to see it, then yes."

"It sounds reasonable enough," Rook simply agreed, "I can avoid talking about this specific topic in front of them, but I need a more detailed explanation before stepping into our home. You said this village in particular has not been attacked..."

"Do not be impatient, please. I will explain everything on our way to Sheriff Wat-Senn's place, right after taking this meal. And remember, you are here on an ordinary visit... with Ben."

Rook got rid of the urge to sigh by pinching his nose. "...Okay," he muttered resignedly, which Shar interpreted as the end of their conversation and her cue to head back to the farmhouse.

Ben stood by his partner's side, waiting for him to perform other action than staring into space. He patted him on the back and obtained a crestfallen look. "Hey, it's just one more hour."

"Please, be tolerant of my father," the alien reminded him.

Ah, so that was his secondary worry. "Has it ever been otherwise?" Ben asked smugly, on the verge of smirking. "Come on, let's go."

They followed Shar all the way to the residence and were promptly acknowledged by everyone in the cosy dining-room. Rook's younger sisters, as well as his mother, turned to them and offered genuine, welcoming smiles at the same time Rook Ben cheered and ran towards them, likely intending to launch himself at his brother, proving further that they had indeed not become acquainted with the sanguinary crisis their home world was suffering. Rook Da, Ben noticed, was strangely nowhere to be seen.

The Plumber caught his hyperactive sibling and lifted him high in the air, grinning heartily before putting him down so he could tackle-hug Ben as usual. The hero chuckled and combed his fingers through the child's soft, black tuft of hair, placing the other hand on his back affectionately.

"Blonko! We were not expecting to see you two today! What a pleasant surprise!" Rook Bralla exclaimed, spreading her arms in a hospitable gesture. She looked enthusiastically at her middle daughter, who had been setting the table and arranging the widely composed cutlery. "Shim, add some utensils for your brother and our guest, please." While the white-haired alien girl dashed across the room and into the kitchen, her mother's loving gaze settled again on the just-arrived boys. "Son, you and your friend do not have to stay there. Come over and sit down! I presume you will join us, am I correct?"

Rook pretended to be tranquil and let his shoulders go limp in the familiar environment, flashing a warm smile at her. "Of course, mother. How could I decline any of your meals?"

Well, it was actually a good question. As far as Ben knew, it had been like a month and a half of 'abstinence' for Rook. Apparently, the Amber Ogia served in Earth didn't taste the same. Not that Ben would go and corroborate that statement. Sure, unlike other kinds of alien dishes, he could swallow the fruit without gagging and he was relatively on friendly terms with his partner's native food. But truth be told, Ben wasn't precisely very fond of its delicate, sticky consistency, and he also found Amber Ogia to be way too sweet for everyday meals or even a 'sometime food', regardless of the recipe.

Speaking of the devil... "Ben, what about you?"

Ben caressed the head of the alien clinging to his stomach and gazed up at Bralla. "Sure... I'll... I’ll eat with you, if that's not a problem."

"It is hardly a problem," Bralla clarified kindly, "Please, have a seat."

The youngest Revonnahgander released him and Ben moved his arms to each side, accidentally elbowing someone’s ribs in the process. He spun on his heels with an apology stuck in the middle of his throat, and almost leapt at the abrupt appearance of Da and his ever present stern look. "Um, sorry, Sir..." Ben murmured nervously, shuffling out the way to stand near his friend and embrace the feeling of security he transferred.

Da stared, his eyes dull and serious on the teen, until he finally focused on his son. "Blonko, I see you brought Benjamin with you," the farmer said, his voice too inscrutable for them to analyse. He regarded the pair coldly at first, but his gaze softened by the narrowest of margins an instant later. He rested a hand on his son's shoulder and an unusual, mellow voice announced his next words. "Welcome home." He glanced at Ben fleetly. "Both of you."

Rook felt more room in his chest. His father didn't smile, but he was, in all probability, doing his best to act courteously and to leave aside his dislike for Ben.

Whereas Rook couldn't be more grateful to him, Ben got the impression that Da's sharp, albeit more or less controlled attitude, really wasn't about him on this occasion.

Since they no longer shared the table in hostile silence, the mealtime lapsed comfortably. In contrast to Ben's first visit, there had been absorbing conversation subjects ranging from confusing earthling customs to typical family matters that would always elicit a good laugh from Ben.

After two years, he had surprisingly bonded with his friend's family, especially with each one of the siblings and –in a lesser extent, with the passage of a tempestuous year– with his mother, earning enough reliance to participate and even express his view on talks brought out by them. The Revonnahganders seemed genuinely interested in their son and daughter's adventures back in Earth, and they would occasionally and additionally inquire about the wielder of the Omnitrix's stories, most of the time listening intently to the details and, needless to add, interrupting to ask the meaning of certain expressions.

For a short-lived moment, brushing aside the main reason to be there, Ben was deeply delighted by the gathering. Much like him, the younger ones had grown a few inches since they all first met and also changed noticeably in both appearance and demeanour. Rook Ben obviously kept his chatty, energetic and childish personality, for instance, but he no longer made a mess of himself and his spot at the table just to annoy his sisters. Shim and Shi still behaved as mannerly as before, timid yet approachable and always laughing at the jokes Ben would tell or at his silly misfortunes in regards to cultural contrast. Appearances and personalities had adjusted according to the alien girls’ respective ages. Rook Shi’s hair had grown a couple of inches past her shoulders, and her older sister, more talkative and physically developed to a greater extent, opted for letting her long, white hair down in lieu of the everyday neat braid.

Ben wasn't a member of the family, but watching them shape their personalities for the next stage of their lives just triggered a warm, gratifying feeling inside him.

Which, in this particular day, enfeebled a bit due to the pensive aura emanating from Shar, sitting at his right, and Da, settled at the end of the table, both of them outwardly distraught. Ben glanced at his half-eaten dish, then at their full plates, and didn't even have to ask. A burden of grave concern was weighing on their minds. They had been rather quiet for the most part, and at that point, a distracted Rook Da who didn't open his mouth to make subtle yet insulting remarks was straight out alarming.

Ben cast a brief glance towards his partner, settled at his left and perhaps a bit closer than normal. He was acting as ebullient as in any other day, constantly participating in conversations and often smiling at whoever talked to him. Ben had to admire his actor qualities; he was pretty good at pretending. It seemed it wasn't a hereditary skill.

"...I am principally looking forward to the commencement of the festival," Shim was currently saying from across the table. "The main fireworks display is magnificent and never ceases to amaze me... Oh, Ben!" she called all of a sudden, "Are you planning to stay and celebrate with us?"

The human blinked a few times, clearly at loss. "I'm sorry, what? Celebrate?"

"The harvest festival starts in three days!" Rook Ben explained, "Will you take part?"

"Eh... I... I don't know." He gave Rook a quizzical look. "Will I?"

"Um, I... I do not know either." The Plumber passed the same look on at his father. "Will he?"

Da raised an eyebrow, then sighed and bowed his head lightly. "As long as no other silo explodes, he can participate.” He shot Ben a warning scowl. "And more importantly, keep distance from my son's ship. We do not want to repeat the events that took place last time."

Ben mentally banged his forehead against the table. No matter how many times Rook Ben explained himself, that incident would be his fault alone until the end of the universe. He cracked a nervous smile. "Well, you know what they say. Third time's a charm."

Da narrowed his eyes. "I am not familiar with the expression, and you are well aware.”

Rook hastened to place a defensive hand on Ben's smaller back. "It means he will not be a source of inconvenience on this occasion," he reassured, squeezing the awkward human protectively.

Either the rest of the household didn’t register the tension rising around them, or they were so used to Da’s dealings with the off-worlder that it didn’t entail much concern.

"So, will you be present?" Rook Ben insisted, grinning cheerfully as though his father weren’t staring daggers at his idol.

Ben yanked the part of the shirt encircling his neck. "So it seems, buddy."

"Having you here is going to be very amusing," continued Shim, a sportive smirk tugging at her purple lips. "Are you going to dress like the Harvest Queen and chase my brother around the village again?"

The ambience brightened with that jesting question. Rook Ben's snorts and his sister's cute snickers filled the room. Even Da, seriousness incarnate, left behind his unrelenting glare and made a barely audible sound resembling a faint snort at the memory. It didn’t surprise Ben much. After all, Rook Da had laughed his butt off. Well, at least Shim had stopped teasing him about that bad choice of a fork on his first day there.

Ben heard Rook snicker and turned to him, mildly embarrassed and ready to accuse the ex-farmer of treachery. He punched the alien's thigh playfully, ignored his captivating smile, and proceeded to glare at Shim in the same manner, simulating indignation. "That’s a low blow! I was tricked! The little alien over there took advantage of my ignorance!"

Rook eyed his friend with harmless, mischievous malice and leant closer. "Ben, we might belong to different systems, but much like Revonnah, conventional human stereotypes indicate that wearing garments of any variation of pink is not appropriate for males."

"But I didn't know it would be the same way here! It was my first day in your planet and your brother said it was the king's clothing!" Ben slumped back and crossed his arms, his cheeks flushing for a myriad of reasons. "What's your point, anyway?"

"My point is that you acceded to wear a costume seemingly designed for females with its respective accompanying items, and..." Rook trailed off, the adorable smile growing into a charming, teasing smirk. "You did not seem bothered or uncomfortable until we revealed the truth."

Ben's lips quivered for a second. He managed to open his mouth, intending to say something witty and sensitive like 'dude, I didn't want to judge your race's colour preferences' or 'I merely wanted to celebrate with you', but he closed it again like a miserable fish out of water when the farmers' suppressed laugh rang in his ears for a second time. Da was the only silent member of the family, offering a hardly noticeable, tight-lipped smile that clearly wouldn't widen. Cheeks burning, Ben's neck snapped to Rook. "You're so paying for this."

Expectedly, the Plumber's expression rejoiced even more at the sad attempt of a threat. But it gradually faded to a blank one after the moment passed and his amber eyes flicked up to look past Ben. The hero followed his partner's gaze and found it meeting with Shar's. 

And soon, the bitter atmosphere came back. "Sister, shall we take a stroll around the village with Ben now?"

"Oh, sure. Excuse me, I forgot..." The Plumber Cadet played along and rose from her chair.

"Great! Can I go, too?"

“Um...” Shar didn't know what to answer. The eagerness in her younger brother's voice was too much to handle.

So she glanced at her father for back up, and he understood straightaway. "No, son, you may not. I require your help this afternoon. You will stay here."

Rook Ben whined and leaned backwards as his father escorted the group out of the house.

Once gathered on the short grass meters away, the farmer stood before his two eldest children and their friend. "Be careful on your way to Wat-Senn's place. Whether you decide to reach your destination flying on the ship or walking, take good care of yourselves." Da paused and pointed at the Omnitrix sourly. "I suggest that you transform wisely and at opportune moments, though. If something deemed a critical threat happens, you may change your form. Otherwise, I beg you not to use it in front of the farmers."

"Don't worry, Sir. We're doing this subtly, without attracting attention. I frankly don't understand your disapproval of the Omnitrix, but I do respect it. Our priority is exploring and shielding your people, and only after achieving that goal, I'll use the Omnitrix to hunt down those criminal masterminds." Rook looked toward Ben with astonishment in his eyes. When had the teen become so calm and mature? "And once we finally find them, I'll kick their sorry butts all the way to HQ prisons!"

Never mind.

Da blinked a few times, nodded dismissively, and gazed up at his daughter. "Do not forget to ask Wat-Senn for the information I requested about East villages."

"I will not, father."

They chose to walk across the uneven terrain in order to verify the current conditions of neighbouring families, avoiding the mountains’ edges as much as possible to make the process faster, safer and less tiring for Ben. They came across several inhabitants of all ages, each one of them performing daily activities and chatting. Some had the air of being preoccupied, others seemed imperturbable. Some waved civilly, others remained motionless. Either way, every group of farmers had a thing in common: they all sent lingering stares at Ben.

Rook had just grabbed his upper-arm and gently dragged the off-worlder between him and his sister when someone called his given name. He spun around, and found himself wrapped in a sweet, tight embrace which he eagerly returned.

Ben's stomach twisted into a nauseating knot. He averted his eyes.

The Plumber pulled away, beaming with delight and relief. "Rayona! You are all right!"

The farmer flashed an endearing, wistful grin. “Better now that I see you here,” she told him, holding his hands. “It has been a while..."

For a short stretch they stood still, gazing intently and almost lovingly into each other's eyes, just the two of them, until Shar made an inopportune sound to clear her throat, effectively gaining their attention and prompting them to put some distance.

Ben felt the sudden need to worship her.

“Hello, Rayona. Nice to see you.”

"Yes..." Ben agreed, hands in pockets, his downcast eyes reluctantly looking up to hers. "Same here. Glad you're fine."

Rayona acknowledged them with another broad smile. She was about to reply, but Rook cut her off and turned her around brusquely by the shoulder, his face mirroring outright worry. "How is your family?"

Rayona's grin dwindled to a frail smile. "They are quite distressed, especially my parents and grandmother, but fortunately they are doing well," she answered, flipping a strand of glossy hair behind her shoulder. "Thank you for your concern."

"Should you need our assistance, do not hesitate to ask."

She laid a delicate, light hand on his cheek. "I know we can rely on you, Rook."

Ben had to keep going forward, even at a slow pace, to tear his eyes away and not feel like an invader. This was their moment. He didn’t have the right to ruin it with jealously and sullen faces.

Rayona glanced at him, then at his ex-boyfriend's sister who was glowering fixedly at her with crossed arms. The farmer understood the hint and took an inflexible step back. "Forgive me. You must not have time for greetings. You all appear to be heading somewhere. I do not wish to delay you." She paused to kiss the Plumber's cheek. "Whenever you have a moment to spare, please, do meet me up. Until then, take care of yourself." Rook gave a promising nod and she waved at Shar before hurrying away.

Rook watched her go benevolently, then turned back, and found his friend meters ahead and a bleak frown plastered to his younger sister's face. "Is there a problem?" he couldn't help asking.

Shar's only response was a fierce nod toward Ben, something that Rook obviously didn't grasp. His features held concern, but his obliviousness reduced any sentence to a perplexed shrug. Shar shook her head hopelessly and proceeded with her walking, motioning for Rook to follow them and trying to convince herself that her brother wasn't blind, just clueless about some stuff when it came to Ben.

Rook caught up with his partner's strides rapidly. He couldn't tell why the human had so coarsely left without saying good-bye, and none of his companions had the air of being eager to elucidate the reason either. But Rook wanted to wise up, and thus allowed his inquisitive nature to take command, taking Ben's upper-arm tentatively. "Ben, if I may ask..."

Ben faced him with an ordinary, bright gaze as they kept on walking. Rook wasn't the only good one at pretending. "Go on."

"Why did you continue ahead without us?"

"Oh, that. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, it's just, y'know..." Ben struggled to smirk, waggling his eyebrows and nudging the alien. "I thought you and Rayona needed some quality time."

Rook furrowed his brow. "I do not know what you are referring to."

Ben puffed sarcastically. He was great at pretending, but for a very, very limited period of time. "Yeah, right."

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing, nothing." No case. The mixture of faint anger and intense heaviness of heart were manifested in his dry tone.

"Ben, I need to remind you..." Shar interjected accusingly, "I was there as well. I believe that sharing your brilliant idea with me would have been more convenient and practical."

Damn, this girl was definitely in two minds, wasn't she? First she sort of helped Ben in an indirect manner, and the next moment she stabbed her favourite scythe on his back. "Well, I was convinced that you'd follow me on your own!" Ben retorted, raising his voice the slightest bit without noticing. "It's common sense! How could I have known you wouldn't realise and ruin their smoochy moment instead?"

"Smoochy moment?"

A sly smile spread across Shar's face. "You are welcome."

Oh, Rook was so lost in their conversation. "Why should Ben be grateful?"

Ben glared at her through narrow eyes. What was she playing at? "Don't you owe us an explanation?" he demanded, thoroughly unwilling to push the issue.

"Actually, both of you owe me clarifications," Rook corrected, sounding incensed in a minor degree. "But I would rather hear about the countless felonies occurring around my planet."

Following a fairly declivitous path, the village where the siblings resided became a faraway land behind the trio. They arrived to the edge of a deserted, steep falling surface where the wind increased its speed and blew in larger gusts, whistling in their ears as the group drowned into the majestic view in front and below. Several peaks of remote, terraced mountains dug into the mass of condensed water vapour floating high above the ground, threatening to scratch mercilessly the beautiful, blue sky with pointed crests. Ben examined the drop, trying to trace a mental, quick road in which he hopefully wouldn’t trip over, fall down, and pathetically roll all the way to the base.

Shar pointed at an extensive, scarcely distant massif where plenty of farmhouses laid in the foothills. “Those are East villages, the ones father mentioned. Farmers who have gone there to visit relatives detected dead bodies in lake shores, harvesting fields and occasionally near the victims’ residences.”

The two Revonnahganders descended the craggy, bushy slope deftly, with Ben taking halting steps after them and holding onto the rocks to keep his balance.

Previously looking over his shoulder, Ben spotted a mischief of Muroids staring from a side cave and he almost panicked. He made a series of unsteady, disobedient movements, attempting to catch up with his friends’ agile pace, only to end up lurching downward involuntary, uttering a high-pitched, short yelp and clinging to Rook‘s waist from behind in search of balance.

The alien dug his heels on the ground, ceased to move and looked at him questioningly. Ben composed himself and rushed to speak in desperate need to join their conversation. “You mean no thefts? Grandpa said some houses had been broken into.”

Shar disregarded the ungainly ‘hug’ on purpose. Enough torture for Ben on one day. “Exactly. Wat-Senn has been notified of a vast number of cases related to property damage. However, we inspected a few homes and discovered that personal belongings have not been stolen.”

Rook hooked his wrist loosely around Ben’s to serve as a guide during the rest of the slope. The wielder of the Omnitrix flinched considerably at the gesture, but he didn’t have the heart –or the will– to protest. Rook, on the other hand, appeared to find it comfortable. Perhaps even natural. “Surely, those who are in charge of invading residences are not after belongings, but after the material they are made of.”

“Indeed. They are interested in the essential element our planet yields.”

“Wait, but why would they go around killing and kidnapping families?” Ben reasoned, his arm rigid so as not to fall limp and let the little contact slip. “Amber Ogia grows into the crevices of rocks. It’s not that hard to get. Heck, they could barge into the fabrics and take over the silos where the processed fruit is stored.”

“Ben, there is no end to the lengths oppressors would go to seize the largest quantities of Amber Ogia. Households in general have nearby emergency reserves in case complications concerning the crops arise.”

“Well, I didn’t know that... But still, this is plain sick. It can’t be only about fruit.”

“Your argument is indisputable. Amber Ogia is not the only important factor.” Shar conceded, leaning backwards and stretching her arms to resist the marked, lopsided drop. “I am certain this is the beginning of a conspiracy.”

They reached the base of the drop and went through a narrow path between high rocks. Another village came into sight at the end and Ben whined in his head when Rook let go, but he focused again promptly. “Conspiracy against an entire species you say?”

“It is no more than a hypothesis. That is the reason why we are heading to Sheriff Wat-Senn’s base. He has been visiting attacked villages within a hundred kilometres radius of his own place, approximately, to prevent other areas from being targeted.”

“Sounds like a whole lot of risky work for just one Plumber.”

Shar shot a look at him over her shoulder. “What are you implying?”

Ben didn’t cringe under her intense glare. He had never been afraid to voice his point of view and this certainly wouldn’t be the first time. “I mean precisely that. To try handling things without help every now and then is okay, but this is grave. Why don’t we simply communicate with Plumbers HQ and ask for backing or something? I’m surprised Wat-Senn hasn’t done it yet! For all we know, which I must add it’s not too much, this could be senseless butchery or an invasion!”

The Plumber Cadet halted and faced the boy just as sharply, placing both hands on her hips. “Wat-Senn assimilates my people’s reactions and respects the judgement of both elder population and my father. If we handled the Incurseans in an accomplished manner without the rest of the Plumbers, we can also solve this without them, be that the case of an invasion or savage killing.” She squinted at him. “Unless... Is this too much for you?”

“What?” Ben let out a conceited chuckle. “Are you kidding? I’ve dealt with countless lethal threats since I was ten! I can totally handle this.”

“Then live up to your word and help us the way you told our father.”

Ben parted his lips to keep on arguing, to mention again the possibilities and remind her about the large number of Revonnahganders who had died by the hand of unknown criminals, but his jaw tightened. It was in vain. Shar knew about all that and was still partial to her race’s requests. Ben felt Rook grip his forearm and his eyes flicked up to the alien’s unsmiling face.

“We have already discussed this for quite a long while, Ben. Stop insisting.”

The hero yanked his arm free, earning a deep, scolding glare from his best friend before the siblings strode across the mountain terraces. Ben sighed and forced his legs to move. This race was excessively orthodox. Their upholding of tradition was not his territory to tread in.

“So,” he prompted, after minutes in complete absence of words inside the village. “Which direction is Wat-Senn stationed in?”

“We must follow up the same path across the village,” Shar said, inspecting the unusually stagnant land. “We should be there in brief.”

Rook glanced around at the farmhouses, searching for inhabitants or movements of any kind, but he found nothing save two pairs of scythes lying abandoned on the fields. Rook couldn’t explain it, but just looking at the cutting tools with its owners nowhere to be seen put him on. It gave him the impression that each farmer had disappeared at the same exact time.

Prompted by instinct, he rested his hand on the Proto-Tool. That prolonged silence wasn’t characteristic of his diligent people, not three days before the harvest festival. Something was going on. “Sister, has this area been attacked?”

“No one notified such a thing. However, two members of different families have been missing for a couple of days.”

“What do you know about them?”

“One of them is a female. She is roughly your age. The other one is a farmer in his late thirties. His two sisters share a residence with him in the centre of the village.”

“Hey, guys.” Ben pointed. “Is that normal?”

The siblings’ eyes followed Ben’s finger to the edge of the mountain, where a bunch of ancient, middle-sized rocks should be. Instead, they spotted a short trace of dozens of shattered, tiny stones surrounded by pools of amber liquid that extended linearly along the slope. Both stared down in incredulity.

Rook shook his head slowly at the setting. “No. That is hardly normal.”

“The only being who actually has the ability to inflict destruction on our landscape is Ben, and he is not considered normal here.”

“Oh, come on! You’re all quite weird too! And I’m not the only one who can wreak havoc with your precious rocks and fruit!” Ben protested, taking a wide stance. “There is this traditional fighting style of yours, Revonnah Kai or... Something! Perhaps someone good at it was practising and broke these rocks?”

“Ben, the Stone Cutter is not a movement you practise with rocks that yield Amber Ogia. Or with any rock in a village, for that matter.” Rook’s gaze drifted to the lonely fields. “I do not think habitants are responsible.”

“Most certainly not,” Shar said bitterly, “I have seen this before and I am more than sure that it was caused by the very common lowlifes behind each recent crime.” She stomped the ground and stalked across the village. “Let’s continue. Wat-Senn must have witnessed something.”

Ben and Rook exchanged a concerned look and strode after her. Just as the group had imagined, not a soul showed up during the rest of their quiet walking. They solely found a scythe stuck to the grass on the next flat level above and that was pretty much it. They didn’t have time to explore further either, since Wat-Senn’s place was minutes away from the beginning of the village, like Shar had stated.

As per usual, the alien girl didn’t bother to knock for privacy’s sake. “Wat-Senn, I am here! I brought Ben and my brother to–” The announcement caught in her throat. Her companions’ eyes widened in shock and a horrified gasp escaped her mouth.

The chairs and round table had been knocked over savagely. Smashed pieces of porcelain cups and plates were scattered over trampled food. The fridge’s door was terribly dented and one of the window shutters hung broken and crooked, held on by a single hinge.

Shar put both hands to her nose, pressing her lachrymal sacs to fight down the suffocating wave of tears. A long trail of thick dots of blood branched out in all directions, and it burned whatever air remained in Rook Shar’s lungs to imagine that her mentor had been hauled across the room while his wounds dripped blood. Appalled beyond measure, she dragged her gaze deeper into the room and noticed the other two doors’ damaged locks. Without thinking twice, she sprinted toward them and dashed into the next room.

“Wait!” Ben and Rook cried out in unison, rushing in the same direction. They found Shar standing still in what appeared to be an average transmission sector, her back facing them as she stared at the slashed, smoky communication equipment emitting weak sparks, and then at the wooden counter where empty blaster stands rested.

Wat-Senn. Those vile criminals had assaulted and stolen from Wat-Senn.


	4. The New Order

For the fifth time, as if Wat-Senn had been deprived of his Plumber Badge, the only answer Shar got was the sound of faint static. She lowered the communication device to her lap in an act of surrender and stared at it bitterly, clenching its edges with a weak, shaking hand.

"It is useless," she mumbled, wiping away the tears blurring her sight. "And it is entirely my fault. Had I made a better decision, he would be with us right now, at our disposal and safe. "

Rook‘s eyes flitted from the windshield and focused on his sister. His facial muscles worked to keep the serious expression he always wore behind the ship controls, but they loosened inevitably at Shar’s affliction. "Do not take responsibility for his disappearance, sister. Wat-Senn could not anticipate this and neither could us."

"But if I had led you there directly, like Ben suggested..."

Shar trailed off long enough. Ben tore his gaze away from the ship’s window and set it on her, his elbow against the door and his cheek resting heavily on his knuckles. He loathed the maddening, overall pointless phrase ‘told you’ only when delivered at him. And yet, as much as Ben would have liked to say those words to someone as smart and rational as Shar (or much better, Gwen or Rook), this wasn’t the proper context.

Ben could be a little stubborn, rather conceited and far too reckless among many other bad things, but heartless was out of the list.

“Hey, no regrets. That probably wouldn’t make a difference,” he said, his voice a hint of reasonable irritation. It bothered him when good people were unfair to themselves. "This isn’t your fault. You did what your dad thought best for your family, what you two thought best for them. Even if Wat-Senn was attacked while we were eating or hours ago, you’re not to blame; none of us is to blame, okay?"

Shar snivelled and closed her eyes, her mind struggling to regard those words as true. Rook only cast another compassionate glance and bit his lip with sympathy to avoid further talking. Consolatory speeches were pointless to him. He knew that the person who actually stood a chance of soothing his sister’s pain was Wat-Senn in the flesh.

Ben, on the other hand, wouldn’t just sit around and watch Shar take the blame. Sighing an audible exhalation, he moved closer and spoke in a more caring tone.  
“Listen, I’m worried about Wat-Senn as much as you are, but it’s too soon to mourn over his death. He may still be around, hold captive or hostage and stuff. We don’t know about all those missing farmers’ whereabouts and no one found their bodies.” He rested his hand on her shoulder and Shar opened her damp eyes forcibly. “Get my point?”

She blinked under the tender touch, allowing two tears to roll down her cheeks before giving a stiff, decisive nod.

“Good, now chill out and focus on things out of the ordinary. Don’t drop your guard. That way we’ll get to whoever laid a finger on Wat-Senn.” He patted her shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be fine. We’ll fix this.”

Shar breathed in and nodded again, then eyed the spot Ben was patting. “Thank you, but may I ask what are you doing with your hand?”

Oh, Déjà vu.

No, wait. That actually _had_ happened to Ben before.  
  
“It’s just an ‘earthling’ gesture. Haven’t you seen it? Not so hard to understand.” Ben repeated the action once more for emphasis. “See? _There, there..._ It’s supposed to be comforting.”

Shar seemed hesitant to answer. “I do not intend to offend you, Ben, but the motion of your hand is not working.”

Ben gave himself the pleasure of chuckling. Ah, the memories... He wished this was about a missing shot. “Most times it doesn’t, I know, but it’s almost a reflex by now.” He waved the hand in the air, scooted away, and continued to look out the window. “Whatever. Let’s see if we find something of interest. I don’t want us to be out of the loop for much longer.”

Still puzzled and ignorant about a vast number of expressions, the Plumber Cadet turned to her brother for translation. “My time on Earth without a partner like him did not help my poor knowledge of human language; what loop is he talking about?”

“I am not certain about that one. If I am correct, he meant that it is time for gaining information and becoming involved in the case.”

“Yes...” Ben averted his gaze to the siblings, pondering about something his brain alone deemed feasible. “In fact, that’s precisely what I meant.” He lifted the Omnitrix wrist with abrupt determination and the holographic interface came out. But before scrolling through the aliens’ body shapes, he paused. He saw the disapproving look on the Revonnahganders’ faces out of the corner of his eye, and they were definitely demanding an explanation.

Ben looked at them blankly, then at the watch, and then at the siblings again. He finally let out a snort. “Oh, I know what you guys are thinking: Ben Tennyson is about to break his promise.”

“And surely, I know what _you_ are thinking,” Rook went on dryly, dragging his intense gaze ahead. “For you, it is acceptable to make an exception for the purpose of either an encounter with the roots of this massacre or a trace of Wat-Senn.”

“Bingo! What a great connection, partner!” Ben exclaimed teasingly, enthusiastically. “We’ll split up! I’m going to transform into a flying alien, look ‘round every corner of nearby villages to make this faster, and deal with your nasty stares later.”

Rook tightened the grip on the steering wheel, but he forbore from objecting. “Remember that this is an exception. And please, try not to attract the habitants’ attention.”

“Count on it. I’ll not even get that close to the villagers! Got something to say, farm-girl?”

Shar pursed her lips and shrugged weakly. “At this point, my priority is Sheriff Wat-Senn.”

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road!” Ben’s fingers skimmed through the holographic circle showing all alien forms up for selection. “Though it’s not as if I was asking for permission, anyway.” Upon choosing one, the front plate of the Omnitrix slid open and Ben slammed his palm on the core, triggering a transformation.

Rook squinted at the burst of shimmering green light while Shar covered the side of her face to block it out. When the blinding veil of light wore off, it revealed a tiny, yellow bug-like alien standing on the passenger seat.

Ben examined his small form and whined in that cute voice his fangirls loved so much. “Aw, man!”

“Ball Weevil cannot fly, Ben,” Rook remarked matter-of-fact, sounding remotely disgruntled.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious!”

Rook slowed the ship down and pressed a button on the dashboard to activate the automatic opening above. “Not to mention that you should not transform in the ship.”

“I got it, _Rook_. Sorry.” Ben jumped to Shar’s shoulder, climbed up her head without warning and threw himself out.

“In the event that you discern unconventional activity, come to us quickly!” Rook reminded him.

Ben performed a military salute with his short leg before pressing the Omnitrix symbol. “All right, Omnitrix, take two!” A new brilliant flash lit up above the Revonnahganders’ heads and Ben changed to Astrodactyl, stretching out the retractable wings hidden in his jet-pack. “Ah, that’s much better! So long, guys!”

He flew away from the ship, leaving a shiny, light-green trail behind his movements. The Revonnahganders watched him fly to the right. “Well, it is beseeming to explore our planet with the assistance of the Omnitrix,” Rook admitted, looking out to scan the area. “There are certain sectors that the Proto-TRUK cannot accede due to mountain ranges and our terrains are far too uneven for walking. Trying will slow us down.”

“No need to employ persuasion. I will not protest.” Shar settled her brooding eyes on the Plumber Badge. “Do you think we will be able to handle this by ourselves?”   
  
Rook took a minute to articulate a honest answer. “I wish I could say something positive, but the truth is that whoever we are hunting down clearly know a lot about the Plumbers and have gained enormous advantage. The main symbol of justice in our planet has disappeared because of them, so I do not have an encouraging answer.”

“No. Neither do I.” Shar pressed the badge to her heart longingly. “I really hope Wat-Senn is alive. I do not know what I would do if...” She left the idea untold. Ben was right, she shouldn’t think about the possibilities. “You might be correct in your assumption. They were aware of the connection between him and the Plumbers.”

Rook‘s gaze shifted to his sister, his body tensing with alarm. “Which means they must be aware of your connection with the Plumbers as well.”

“...Probably.”

Despite his nagging worry, Rook didn’t have the time to consider all the risks his presumption entailed, for he caught a glimpse of Astrodactyl flying back at full speed. He hastened to press the button again and Shar slid to Ben’s usual spot just as quickly, leaving the middle seat available.

In a matter of seconds, Ben hopped into the ship in his human form and fell safely between the siblings. “Head southeast. I think something happened or is about to happen in one of the villages!”

The following sharp, unexpected veer forced Ben and Shar into motion. Their resistance to sudden changes of direction wasn’t strong enough; Shar knocked into Ben and he slammed into Rook‘s side awkwardly, digging his elbow somewhere along the alien’s ribs and stomach and squashing his plump cheek against Rook‘s armoured shoulder. When the ship set about flying straight, Ben and Shar were forced to the other side together.

Ben grunted and pulled his body into a vertical position. “Wow, take it easy, Vin Diesel! We’re in a ship, not in a washing machine!”

Rook didn’t seem to care much about Ben’s angry remarks... Or the way he had called him. “What did you see that is so suspicious?”

“There was a bunch of Revonnahganders gathered in front of some terraces,” explained Ben, rubbing his sore cheek.

“But are you certain that it was something serious? Shar queried, quickly recovered. “It is common for farmers to gather prior to the harvest festival.”

“Yeah, but it’s not normal to hold people in agony sprawled on the ground, is it?”

Rook didn’t need to hear the rest. “Guide me. Where shall we head?”

Following Ben’s directions, they reached highlands hard to see through and landed on the first smooth field they saw. They sprinted across the huge village until the terraces, farmhouses and a significant part of shocked habitants came into view, plenty of them astonished, horrified, or holding scythes in attack position. The trio halted behind them, their steps drawing unwanted attention to Ben. He earned a few strange peeks courtesy of the last row of Revonnahganders, but the farmers had something else to regard as striking in front of them, and so did Ben.   
He rested his hand on a large rock at the left and lifted his gaze to the terraces. His eyebrows shot up in confusion.

A group of about thirty Revonnahganders stood in the level above, bearing pointed, high-tech batons, curved daggers attached to their belts, and carrying large blasters with thick straps and backpack versions of harvesters. Their colourful clothing contrasted a lot with the common farmer garments decorated with shades of brown, yellow and orange. The females up there wore red dresses featuring black swirling motifs, pleated and fairly loose both below the waist and at the end of their wide sleeves, and the males were clothed in black arm and leg wraps and light-blue, sleeveless tunics with white accents. All of them wore versions of typical footgear but in its respective colours.

The two Revonnahganders a couple of steps ahead, however, were the ones who actually got into the limelight. Before them, almost on the terrace’s edge, stood a female with blue face and narrow markings framed by curtains of wavy, side-parted purple hair. She carried an metallic baton as tall as herself and was accompanied by an earnest, spruce, imperturbable black-haired male, who kept his hands clasped behind him and bore no more than twin blasters hanging from his erect back.

Thanks to the alien girl’s impressive height, it was difficult for Ben’s visual inspection to arrive at deeper conclusions. If he didn’t take into account her good figure and bitter eyes, the Revonnahgander had the face of a sixteen-year-old. She looked too young to own those admirable looks and such a hard, rancorous gaze, and perhaps she was too young in comparison to her fellow member, likely to be around his late twenties. The guy’s abundant, short-length layered hairstyle played well for the age factor though; so did his blue face adorned with thin, rare markings ending at his cheeks. It was his correct stance and cold expression that didn’t make him look any younger than he may appear to be.

There were distinctive attires and personal ornaments on them, too. Silver bands enclosed the alien girl’s upper-arms and she wore a skirt similar to the lower half of the red dresses, a pair of black boots with thick heels and a black leather corset with shoulder straps. The older Revonnahgander donned a combat robe of the colours worn by males, scarcely baggy leg wraps tucked neatly into a pair of dark-blue military boots and a matching belt around his waist. The outer garment spread to the sides below the blue band, reaching his knees, and the gap between its folded lapels revealed a shirt of chain mail.

Ben was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t caught sight of them while searching. How did he miss the group? They all were uniformed to stand out and differ from the local population, as if they were some sort of rising party or something similar. The pair at the front even had an intimidating figure and a natural air of superiority that could persist with or without distinctive clothing and modern weapons.

Angry at his lack of observation, Ben lowered his gaze to the field and peered through the crowd, searching for something else to analyse. He was aghast when he spotted not one hurt farmer, but three, all of them lying on the grass and wrapped in someone’s arms. He didn’t manage to see more, but it was enough to have him on alert and questioning Astrodactyl’s vision.

Certain that the siblings beside him had examined the same anomalies, Ben elbowed his partner gently, eyes again glued to the group of armed native aliens. He had missed a few important things, but he was sure his new suspicion was true. “I think we found them.”

Rook kept looking ahead, completely wide-eyed, then he shook his head in disbelief. No way. His own people couldn’t be criminals, couldn’t be murderers. That long-haired girl didn’t even look much older than Rook Shim! And where would that ‘clan’ get those deadly weapons? His species had always been righteous and hard-working. Why would those Revonnahganders be willing to kill?

So deep in confusion, no one acknowledged the alien child standing on the rocks next to Ben, frantically stretching his neck to get a better view. Defeated by his undeveloped height, he sat on his haunches and poked Ben’s arm. “Why are they dressed like that?”

The hero glanced at him briefly before turning to the front. “I don’t know, they must be–” He paused at once and checked on the new source of voice for a second time. He blinked questioningly at Rook Ben, but the latter only broke into an innocent grin.

Unsure of what to do, say or ask, Ben yanked Rook’s arm to grab his visual attention. “Um, guys...”

As Rook Ben implored mercy through waving a nervous hello, his elder siblings stared in blank astonishment... Until Shar broke the silence and muttered between gritted teeth, “What are you doing here brat?!”

“Eh... It is a long story.”

Shar pushed Ben and Rook out of her way and leant forward, pointing a finger to his brother’s face. “You sneaked into the ship, did you not?”

“Well... I was not originally going to, but–”

“But?!”

Rook Ben swallowed hard. “When you arrived back in our village and rushed to the ship, I hid in the back because I was looking for something interesting,” he explained lamely, fidgeting with his fingers. “I did not get off because I was curious...”

At that point, Rook had put a hand to his forehead, given a sigh and turned back to the centre of attention without further questions.

At that point, Shar’s reprimanding look had become a narrow, threatening glare.

Rook Ben bit his lip and shrunk. “And bored, I was mainly bored.”

“This is the last time you will see sunlight.”

The short alien flinched and put his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please, do not tell mother and father!”

“Telling them is the first thing I am going to–”

“Shh, be silent! They are talking! Put our brother down and keep him close!”

Shar gave her brother another seething look before complying. Angry or not, part of her still feared that Rook Ben saw a ferocious scene, but the rest of her being was begging for information to clear her doubts. She hauled Rook Ben next to her to keep an eye on him. “We have not finished, brat.”

“But I want to see what is happening!” the alien whined, ready to make a dash for the rocks that served as his platform.

His sister yanked him back swiftly. “Do not look! Be quiet and let us listen!”

The tall female at the fore rapped her high-tech staff on the ground, sweeping her hard eyes over the dead bodies and the first rows of Revonnahganders that insisted on hissing and baring their pointed canines at her.

“I’d appreciate that you farmers cease to resist. Your attempts to confront us are futile, and you’ll only get your friends and families killed if you persist.” She pointed the pole weapon at one bleeding elder, causing the kneeling female in tears to hug his lifeless form tighter. “Shall I remind you that we’ve already tried to inculcate our ideals the peaceful way? You should consider this a fair warning.”

“Fair?” the weeping farmer choked out, the word tumbling sourly from her mouth. “I fail to see how this is fair! I doubt you understand the concept of fairness at all!”

“What is your sanguinary clan’s ultimate aim?” another Revonnahgander demanded, clutching his scythe menacingly. “You enter into our village, carrying weapons created by outsiders, then murder three respected members of our community without valid reasons, and for what purpose?!”

“Your threats do not have impact on us!” exclaimed an indignant female somewhere in the field. “If you were not able to convince us peacefully, what makes you think we will support your senseless ideology through violence?!”

The alien girl flipped her thick hair and uttered a delicate snigger; a spontaneous sound that contrary to the cute giggles that escaped Rook’s sisters was neither tender nor innocent.

Ben didn’t like this Revonnahgander, not one bit.

“I’m afraid that we did have reasons to end those old farmers’ life,” the Revonnahgander explained. “But it has nothing to do with your support; we solely wanted to illustrate the measures we’ll take in case you keep rising against us like they did. Since your inclination to tradition knows no boundaries, and you’re all willing to send into exile those who believe that outsiders and their major technological creations should be allowed in Revonnah, then we’re more than pleased to fight to death, for our ideals’ sake.”

The crowd remained silent, watching attentively and listening, always listening. Something bigger was coming. She was not done yet and everybody knew it.

Only one farmer handed her toddler daughter to her eldest son and motioned for him to back away as she took a bold step – her expression mirrored outstanding bravery when she addressed the younger alien. “You do not own the right to murder my neighbours because they disagree with your revolutionary ideology. We will not witness this terrible iniquity and do nothing about it!”

The teenager cracked a patronizing smirk. The mother’s interruption seemed to be amusing her. “I figured that out. As a matter of fact, most of you won’t stay out of the way and watch your traditional lifestyle crumble to the ground. Which leaves two options available: you can accept our last invitation to adapt and merge with the new order, or you might as well keep on protesting and fighting, until we have _erased_ you from this planet.”

Rook Ben clung harder to Shar. His mind was frightened of those people’s intentions, of the fact that they weren’t brainwashed. It was beyond his sense of comprehension. That group was freely stating they would kill anyone with a different outlook on life, and it was for real? But that was insane!

“Regardless of your choice, however, I suggest that you don’t try to hinder the imminent fall of your traditions,” the girl went on calmly, expertly, as if she had played the role of an orator on countless occasions. “We want this planet to achieve exceptional progress once and for all! We can’t rest until this mundane lifestyle comes to an end, until this dull system you’ve created sinks, and we won’t stop until we are free to exploit the real potential of these promising lands, the real potential of the invaluable resource you refuse to take full advantage of!”

The crowd looked on, lips snarled with rage. No matter how deserving of hate she was, not a soul knew how to interrupt her. There was just something about the alien that stole away her hearer’s words, leaving them bound to wait until the end of her speech. Maybe it was the way she spoke so highly of their planet, the importance of her warnings, or the fact that her clan was armed to the teeth. Whatever the reason, farmers wanted to hear her out and not only for the purpose of making a cutting rejoinder.

“There is more to your precious fruit than harvest, there is more to Revonnah than simple farmers, and you are all aware that we can do much better! But if you insist on being narrow-minded, if you don’t harbour the same ambitions that we have and you decide to get in the way, then we’ll gladly assume responsibility for burying you, right next to your tedious customs.”

Blonko clenched his fists. Her voice was hypnotic, she had every attitude to be a magnificent public speaker, and yet the arrogance, the contractions; the whole violent nonsense exceeded the limits of his tolerance. Rook was about to voice his indignation, loud and clear and blunt, but a male elder expressed opposition first and he had no other choice than to hold his tongue, for one more minute.

“What you are saying is unthinkable! No one here will take part in this senseless movement! How can you aspire to destroy our transmission of costumes and beliefs, considering that you were also born and raised in an identical village attached to traditions? You are just an ungrateful, misguided rebel, and no one in this territory will become your follower!”

“Oh, I did grow up in a traditional village,” the girl conceded, her eyes momentarily twinkling with sardonic amusement. “And I was excluded from your community at early age, because of _my_ personal beliefs.” She paused to view her metallic staff lovingly. “Although I’m not complaining. Being a rootless wanderer took me far. Believe it or not, nowadays I have a wide range of loyal supporters, more than you think it’s attainable, and lots of inhabitants have yet to unite with us...”

Her shoulders slackened as she straightened up, tapping the pole on the ground. “In fact, by standing on this mountain, I can tell how many of you are tempted into helping us purge this planet of tradition,” she declared, her piercing eyes hardening and roaming around the nearest Revonnahganders. “And I can also tell who will be promoting our cause by the end of the day, just by the thoughtful looks on their faces.”

If possible, her features got even darker when a strand of purple hair fell slightly over her left eye. “You, future comrades, don’t have to be scared of exile anymore like I used to be. A new era is about to begin. The long-awaited opportunity to fight for your ambitions has finally come! Gather the courage to do it and join us, make the right choice and search for us, when no one is looking around, just like the rest of _our_ community did...!”

She lowered her tone, but that enticing voice secretly addressing particular groups was still tinged with consuming passion and steely determination. “We’ll be waiting for you with arms wide open, brothers and sisters. I’m sure you’ll know where to find us when you have convinced yourselves, and I must guarantee one thing: you won’t _ever_ regret that choice...”

“I have heard enough!” shouted another aging Revonnahgander, swinging his scythe. “We will not permit this! You will no longer cause disturbance to our dwellings!”

Upon hearing his firm statement, many farmers with children started to back off in anticipation while the rest advanced, bearing their scythes in a defensive position.

The clan approached the terrace’s edge to stand by their leaders, daggers and electric batons in hand. The girl flashed a tiny smirk for a brief moment, and assumed her fiercest, most humourless expression the next. “I must warn you, once this battle begins, there’s no way back.”

The much older Revonnahgander was soon surrounded by an important number of farmers prepared to attack. “We will not recoil at your sharpness and threats.”

“I expected as much,” she said in a collected tone, then extended the staff towards the crowd ominously. “Finish them all.”

And everything unfolded quickly from there.

Lots of her followers jumped from the terraces, the farmers raised their scythes high in the air and suddenly, both sides were engaged in a fight of stabs, blows, electric shocks and firing of blasters. Horrified habitants ran off with their children through the storm of lethal beams, screaming and avoiding shots fired from the few members who stayed up as more Revonnahganders carrying scythes skittered across the chaotic crowd to aid their neighbours.

In the midst of the hubbub of panic screams and agitated families, Ben stood still and wide-eyed, watching unlucky farmers get shot in their attempt to save youngsters and defeated fighters fall stabbed or electrocuted to the ground. He was transfixed by those trained, bloodthirsty revolutionaries dodging scythes and blows almost effortlessly each time.

No Incurseans. No offworlders. Not an invasion.

The enemies were Revonnahganders.

So incredibly astounded, Ben didn’t notice the blast aimed randomly just a few meters away from him. But Rook did, much to his luck, and he had the time to hasten and tackle the boy out of the way.

Ben groaned when his back met the hard ground and his friend’s weight crushed him. “Dude, what was that for? Are you okay?”

Rook got off and pulled him to his feet roughly. “They almost shoot you down! Pay attention and be more careful!” He looked at his siblings and saw Rook Ben still clinging to his sister, trembling uncontrollably. “Shar, get him out of here!”

“I cannot leave you alone, Blonko!”

Another ray was fired in their direction, but it hit the rocks next to them instead. Rook Ben squealed and Shar hugged him protectively, dragging him away as Rook grabbed his Proto-Tool. “Leave now! And beware the shots!” He turned to his partner. “Ben!”

“I know, let’s put a stop to this!”

Dodging inhabitants and whirring beams of energy, both made a sprint for the nearest clashes. Rook didn’t waste a second. He aimed and shot down several members of the clan before they landed a hit of any kind in any farmer. Soon enough, after inflicting flesh wounds to six different criminals, he attracted sufficient attention to supplant some farmers as a target.

What he wasn’t expecting, though, was to become a target for the voice of the clan so early. The rebel leader had made her way through the shaken mass of Revonnahganders rapidly, but Rook managed to dodge the first strike, jumping away from the electricity coursing up and down the double-pointed head of the staff.

“Nice weapon you have there. It surprises me that these die-hard traditionalists didn’t insult you for owning such an object. Unless...” She feigned surprise. “Oh, let me guess, you’re a Plumber, aren’t you?”

Rook’s Proto-Tool turned into a common staff. He wouldn’t even try to reason with someone like her. “My identity is not your concern.”

“You’re right. My concern is that beautiful weapon.”

“You would never understand the complex features of my Proto-Tool.”

“You think so? Why don’t you lend me that ‘Proto-Tool’? If using it I manage to kill you, I’ll keep it. Deal?”

Rook glowered at the cynical girl, his eyes ablaze with anger. It was a shame that someone so comely like her owned such a rotten personality.

Grunting, he swung his staff fast, but the teenager fended off using her own long weapon and put some distance by delivering a hefty kick to his stomach. The Plumber stumbled back and she seized the opportunity to plant her staff on the ground and vault in the air. Rook blocked too high and the girl’s boots slammed nar into his stomach once more, knocking him out of breath and onto the field. With a hot-blooded cry, she thrust the staff already emitting electricity toward him, but Rook rolled aside from the strike and sprang to his feet, his own staff extended unwaveringly and on the defensive.

Their defiant glares met briefly before she charged at him again.

Simultaneously, through the uneasy, rushing multitude, Ben spotted two cornered children backing against the wall of a farmhouse. A female anti-traditionalist was approaching them slowly, holding a curved dagger high above her head. Ben didn’t think twice. He picked up the scythe lying beside a lifeless farmer and hurried. He grabbed the opposite ends of the shaft and shoved the rebel, previously sliding one of his feet between hers, giving the children an opportunity to escape while she tripped over. Ben stepped onto her wrist shortly after, causing her to whimper and loosen the grip on the dagger which he didn’t hesitate to kick out of sight and reach.

As Ben ran away to help others with a scythe he didn’t have the guts to use accordingly, he glanced around and realised that there were more members of the clan than before, as if they had duplicated or something when he wasn’t looking.

The idea of using the Omnitrix soon crossed his mind. His inner voice was screaming at him that this wasn’t the proper time to prove his bravery and skills, that this was the sort of threat to which Blonko and Da had referred in regards to the Omnitrix, but he ignored it all. Ben wouldn’t use the watch, didn’t want to use the watch.

Looking around, he turned to a farmer girl engaged in an unfair one-knife combat, ready to help. However, his sight was blocked by an oncoming elbow that hit him square in the eye and he staggered away like a blind boy, covering his damaged eye and blinking madly to see the attacker as clear as possible. “Oh, this is so going to bruise tomorrow!”

He found the same female he didn’t have the will to kill standing right in front of him, this time in a taller male’s company.

“An offworlder?” the latter said, amazed at the irony. “You’re fighting for the wrong side, child! Why do you support these villagers? You’re not even entirely welcomed here!”

Ben uncovered his eye. “It’s not that bad. At least they no longer beat me up thinking I’m a locust.” Both Revonnahganders looked angrily perplexed. Ben waved his hand dismissively, blinking a little more. “Ah, you shoulda been there.”

Without warning, he used the blunt base of the scythe to thump the female’s ribcage full force. She groaned loudly, but she managed to dig her heels on the ground and hold onto the pole, dragging the human closer to land a severe blow on his cheek. Ben’s grip slackened and the scythe slipped away from his hands, leaving him empty-handed before two armed maniacs.

Enraged at Ben’s audacity, the taller male got a move on and slashed at him. Ben ducked just under the wire, but the sharp dagger’s edge still pierced the fragile skin of his left forearm. Ben felt blood ooze out, felt the stinging coursing through the large cut, yet he barely hissed in pain and backed off, still intending to fight until his back bumped into a wall.

Ben cursed in his head.

Great.

 _Cornered_ between two armed maniacs.

They marched on balefully, scythe prepared and dagger high in the air. Ben’s pulse quickened as his confidence faded in a heartbeat. When they pounced on him, he braced for the pain and touched the Omnitrix instinctively even though he knew it was too late – his eyes squeezed shut as one last thought flashed bright through the battle cries and shrieks of terror: because of his mistimed boldness, he was going to die here.

But the stabs didn’t come.

Ben heard an electric discharge followed by a high-pitched screech, the sound of a fist meeting skin, and finally another discharge plus a powerful grunt. Two bodies and a pair of weapons fell to the ground shortly after, and his heart resumed its racing beating. Ben cracked one eye open and found a farmer holding out one of those infamous, metallic batons with electricity flowing up and down its tip and a blaster on his back.

He turned around, and his voice sounded quite worried when he spoke. “Are you all right? Did they harm you?”

Ben had never been so grateful in his life. “No, I... I-I’m okay...” He could only gawk after his pathetic stutter. Except for his black hair that was a little dishevelled in comparison, the guy looked mostly like a normal Revonnahgander: lean and muscular, dressed in black leg wraps and a sleeveless, brown tunic similar to any farmer’s clothing.

Ben was honestly mesmerized by his aspect, for he hadn’t seen a Revonnahgander with a Mohawk hairstyle since... Well, that awful, _unforgettable_ ‘FistRook’ incident, and even so, this guy had messy, plentiful hair also at the sides of his head, as if it grew too much and too fast to handle.

Ben had to admit that the unshaved and rather spiky haircut actually suited him, though, and that the whiteness of his oval face looked excellent with those thick markings that ended at his cheeks. It reminded Ben of eyeliner applied over pale skin, the kind of make-up that ‘freaks’ would wear back on Earth, but he frankly thought they looked... Pretty cool on him.

“Yes, I’m totally okay... Nothing I can’t handle, uh, thanks.”

The Revonnahgander didn’t seem convinced. He scanned the boy up and down out of curiosity, causing Ben to flinch a little and bend his fingers awkwardly. The farmer fixed his gaze on his left arm and pointed at the large bleeding cut, perhaps far too worried for a stranger. “No, you are not! That wound looks painfully deep. You must watch your back better! Do you not own a weapon?”

“Well, I...” Ben glanced at the Omnitrix doubtfully. Nope, that hadn’t counted at the moment of his almost-death. This dude didn’t know him, which probably meant he didn’t know about the Omnitrix either. “...Took that scythe. But don’t think I can use it.”

“I see.” The farmer nodded in understanding. “You do not feel comfortable at the sight of blood.”

Ben shrugged. “Not particularly.”

“Here.” He extended his arm, offering the electric baton. “You can have this. If you touch the target for no more than a second, I guarantee that you will not see fatal burns or traumatic effects. You will only render them unconscious or reduce their mobility like I did.”

Ben stared at the object, open-mouthed with wonder. Why was this Revonnahgander being so polite to him in the middle of a civil fight? Didn’t he care that Ben was an off-worlder? “Dude, that’s yours! Well, you must have stolen it, but still! What are you going to use?”

The alien smiled. “I appreciate your worry, but as you may see, this is not the only weapon I have ‘stolen.’” He pressed the short pole against Ben’s chest. “Please, do take it. You may help me banish these mistaken revolutionaries.”

Ben kept staring doubtfully, but the distant screams and eventual noises of blasters firing persuaded him into borrowing the weapon. “Okay, when you put it that way...”

The farmer winked at him before running back to the battle, motioning for the human to follow. Ben became paralyzed for another nanosecond.

_‘Okay...? That was weird.’_

But maybe not completely unpleasant.

Ben shook his thoughts in order and realised that he had an interesting, easy-to-handle weapon within reach. His lips curved upwards as he caught up with his saviour. Who knew? He might survive without the Omnitrix after all.

.

Further in the village, Rook stopped running to hide behind a local house, successfully dodging the onrushing rain of laser-beams that hit the walls of a farm-house across him. Except for some lifeless bodies, he was alone in there, resting his back against the side of the building with a heaving chest and a pair of stunned ears. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and changed the Proto-Tool to its reliable blaster form, leaning out the wall to get a good shot.

Alas, someone targeted him first.

Rook gasped and ducked the shot by the skin of his teeth, jolting and turning around the house to emerge from the opposite side. The Plumber fired in the direction he presumed his foe was, but the laser whirred past the later, only revealing Rook‘s position. The calculating revolutionary glowered and pointed his twin blasters at Rook, shooting multiple times as he approached the farm-house.

Rook dodged and recoiled once again, watching for an instant how the blind laser-shots flew by and pierced nearby terraces and houses. He grunted with frustration. Even that criminal had her own partner for backing. Where in the universe was Ben?

Dear God, was he doing fine?

Rook wouldn’t wait to find out. He pulled out his Plumber Badge, retreated further into the sector and hid several houses away, bending over and shielding the side of his head. “Ben! Where are you? Are you safe?”

His ears met the sound of radio signals at first, but Ben was quick to answer. “ _Rook? What do you want? I’m trying to save some people here!_ ” The transmission was briefly interrupted. Rook could have sworn that the heard a discharge and a long, pained scream before his partner resumed the breathy speak. _“What happens? Are you all right?”_

“Ben, where are you? You were supposed to follow me!”

 _“Sorry dude, got distracted.”_ The same noises again. _“I shouldn’t be too far away. Tell me where you are.”_

The agitated atmosphere and background sounds on both sides didn’t make it any easier for Rook’s dull hearing. “What?”

_“Tell me where you are! Describe the place!”_

“I am cornered near the farm-houses, next to the mountains! Several rebels are after me, including–” The end of a blaster appeared in the corner of Rook‘s eye.

“Their leaders?” a calm voice finished for him.

Rook looked up at the blue, emotionless face with short markings behind the weapon, then at the finger hovering over the trigger. The words caught in his throat.

_“Rook? Something wrong?”_

“Yes, Rook,” the murderer droned as his finger touched the trigger, “Is something wrong?”

The Plumber stared, his mouth gaping open and his mind in a daze. He was surprised at his own actions, nevertheless, when his leg stretched out on its own and knocked the anti-traditionalist. Rook made a fast, random sprint and mingled with the battlers in the centre of the village, and realised just then that despite the great number of attackers, his people were also landing effective blows. And perhaps it was his imagination, but were they increasing in number, too?

“Blonko!”

Rook stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing his sister’s voice. His eyes roamed desperately round what had become a battlefield until he spotted his siblings at the mercy of the same female he fought minutes ago.

Shar’s hold on Rook Ben tightened as the rebel activated her staff. Blonko panicked. He scurried towards them at full speed and jumped in between, his Proto-Tool turning into an energy shield straightaway. The electrified head collided with the orange barrier and the sparks back-fired on the female, sending her back forcefully.

She hissed at the mild discharge, teeth bared and nostrils flaring. “I knew I should have killed you with my own hands!”

Notwithstanding her wild fury, Rook had already changed his weapon to a blaster and the girl froze in her movements when he pointed it gloriously at her face. But his victory was short-lived.

“I would not do that if I were you,” said a familiar stern voice from somewhere behind him. “You shoot her, I shoot them.”

The criminal alien smirked at Rook‘s faltering expression. “Hey, Barloc, may I know why you didn’t finish this bothersome Plumber earlier?” she teased darkly, her sinister, condescending eyes fixed on Rook.

Her partner didn’t mind her. “Drop your weapon.”

Rook lost stiffness. He swallowed hard, but otherwise didn’t lower the Proto-Tool. He did acknowledge this Barloc, like his partner had called him, but he didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to get a view of the whole scene. He could easily hear his siblings’ thumping hearts and picture the twin blasters pointed at them.

Only when more rebels surrounded them did he bow his head in defeat and put down the high-tech weapon.

“That’s a Plumber,” jested the alien girl with an unwavering smirk. “Now keep being a good boy and do as I told you. We might give you a quick and pain-free death as a reward.”

Rook pursed his lips in frustration and looked up at her, then at the rest of the group as if searching for a way to escape, and he finally glanced over at his terrified siblings at gunpoint. He dropped the Proto-Tool miserably and turned back at the girl, his hands up in a sign of defeat. “What do you want?”

The anti-traditionalist leader leered at him, her eyes promptly flickering to Shar. “You two are coming with us.”

Rook tilted his head skeptically. “Coming with you?”

“You might be of use. We know a little about you, so you _are_ coming with us.”

“You will not take my sister anywhere.”

The female’s patience began to thin. “Look, fallen police, you’re in no position to challenge me, so shut your mouth or I’ll cut out your damn tongue.” She extended the staff and prodded Rook‘s chest brusquely, nodding at the right. “Walk.”

.

Ben dodged the powerful punch nimbly, ramming the metallic pole into the alien’s cheek and hitting him across the neck once, twice, thrice, until he fell unconscious to the ground. Ben sighed and spun on his heels to face a very startled ally.

“Oh my,” muttered the farmer, clearing his throat. “You are... Considerably good at this, despite your size.”

Ben quirked an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be flattering?”

The alien made another sound and gripped his blaster. “Forgive me, I did not mean to offend, but due to your physical appearance I was not expecting you to be so... skilled.”

Ben shrugged. This guy definitely didn’t know who he was talking to and he had more urgent matters to resolve than telling him. “It seems you judged me wrong. Listen, I need to find my friend. I think he’s in big trouble.”

“Big trouble, huh? Well, you may want a big troop.” Without missing a beat, the farmer gave out his orders to some nearby armed fighters. “You, move on to local dwellings! Someone there could need help. The rest, come with us!”

Minutes later, after running cautiously by well-balanced battles, Ben caught a glimpse of his partner and siblings in the distance.

“Man, they’re cornered!”

His new ally put a hand over his forehead and squinted. “It appears that they had subdued your friend. Come on, we must aid them now!”

The group of revolutionaries must have been too busy, for none of them noticed that Ben and his allies where charging towards them. Just as the farmer pointed his blaster at Barloc’s head and his teammates grabbed the rest of their foes, each putting a dagger against their necks, the female got an electrical discharge and fell writhing and moaning to the ground.

Through her continuous twisting, she tried to reach out for her staff, but Ben stomped on it by instinct, almost grinning in triumph. Barloc stopped posing a threat the moment he shoved both blasters into the back holsters and rushed to help his partner up. She leaned against him weakly as Ben’s saviour aimed his blaster at them.

“You will not stop this until someone injures you badly, right Ithera?”

The twitching girl gathered all her strength to snarl at him. “I’m going to destroy you one of these days, bastard.”

“You will not get another opportunity, I am afraid.” He prowled around them and stood behind, pointing the blaster to Barloc’s nape. “Let’s test your clan’s loyalty, shall we?”

Rook understood the farmer’s intentions and leaded his petrified siblings out of the way. Barloc understood as well and dragged his groaning partner along, approaching the battlefield. When two members turned around, the farmer leaned forward and commanded sharply into Barloc’s ear. “Tell them to leave this village.”

A few more unsure rebels turned at them, wide-eyed and waiting for orders. Ithera tried to be the voice, shaking her head to move the hair out of her face, but only a weak, pained grunt fell from her mouth.

This strangely seemed to double Barloc’s serenity. “You heard him. You know what to do.”

The group of revolutionaries exchanged glances before nodding, but just as they backed away, one of the threatened Revonnahganders plunged his head back hard enough to injure the traditionalist’s face. Once free, he tackled the farmer to the ground, stripping him of the space gun and burying a thick dagger somewhere in his back.

The rest soon followed. Two of them got their throats stabbed in their escape attempt while the rest push their way through, distracting and startling their enemies in the process. All occurred too abruptly. Shar barely managed to shield Rook Ben and Blonko’s first reaction was to rush to their side protectively. Ben was far too unfocused to avoid the oncoming blow that landed right into his nose, sending him to the ground and next to the farmer.

Groaning and wincing, Ben covered his bloody nose with one hand, his head with the other, and watched against his will how Barloc pulled Ithera away and ran off with his followers, shifting nervously from side to side so that no one stepped onto him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Rook protect his siblings, the two rebels lying lifeless near them, and the helping Revonnahgander still struggling to get the attacker off of him.

Ben realised just then that he hadn’t released the electrical weapon and his courage didn’t falter this time. The discharge was brief still strong enough to render the rebel unconscious.

The farmer hissed and trembled as he shoved the body aside, but he smiled through nonetheless. “Sweet Ogia, I felt that discharge!” he wheezed out, his gaze twinkling with mirth despite his heavy lungs and his ally’s blood-soaked nose.

Even with red liquid streaming down his mouth and chin, Ben couldn’t help panting and smiling either. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Sorry? He could have killed me!” The injured alien laughed and stretched to pat Ben’s shoulder with a broad, sweet, contagious smile. “Thank you.”

Ben returned the appreciative gesture just as warmly and tiredly. “Don’t thank me. I owed you.”

.

“Sir!” a female anti-traditionalist addressed Barloc as he inspected the steep slope, the same group still guarding him. “Most harvesters are full!”

“Then we shall withdraw from this village! Tell the rest!”

The Revonnahgander in red complied and Ithera leaned further into his pensive partner, a self-satisfied smirk flickering at the corners of her mouth. “I love it when things go as planned.”

Barloc hold onto the long arm lying around his neck and pulled her waist closer for the next move. “Despite the fact that you were electrocuted by the enemy?”

Ithera snorted. “Ah, don’t mind him. I’ll get my revenge. That coward boy’s going to regret not having killed me. Let’s go.”

Although the rebels weren’t exactly losing, they began to retreat. Rook scanned the area and saw them run both after their leaders and in opposite directions, sliding down the slopes with ease even while carrying full back-pack harvesters. Some infuriated villagers threw their scythes as they withdrew, but the clan in general was fast and agile. It was a matter of seconds before most of them got away unscathed. A great number of villagers neared the edges in order to give chase, but they must have reasoned that it would be much wiser to let the clan slip.

Dispirited silence reigned the broken village after they left. With the cold-blooded, indiscriminate massacre gone, distressed murmurs and shuddering sobs soon replaced battle cries and horror screams. Soft pleas for return and forgiveness echoed through the land. Jittery neighbours started asking each other whether they had seen someone in particular, but the discouraging answer remained the same.

All around, despondent families mourned over lifeless bodies and single farmers in tears fell to their knees to embrace their deceased loved ones, crying into their necks inconsolably and begging them not to leave.

Rook looked at his choked up brother and then at the place surrounded by wounded farmers, damaged property, blood-stained scythes and corpses, and he tasted the agony of every resident as if the village were his own.

The once beautiful, organic landscape had been ruined. The small grassy plots have been washed in dark gore that pooled around dead farmers of both genders and all ages; the low whistles of wind died out between moans of pain and the stench of charred fur and skin overwhelmed the fresh smell of nature. Rook gazed up at a wretched villager not much younger than himself carrying the dead body of an older male and felt his own eyes dampen.

This couldn’t be happening to these people. They didn’t deserve it. Their world yielded one of the most powerful resources in all galaxies and not once did they try to use it for misdeeds or to subdue the rest of the universe and prove superiority. They were blameless farmers who work hard in their little world. How come the seed of cruelty had managed to sprout within part of his people? How come the idea of wrongdoing originated in his peaceful home-world?

“T-they... They are monsters,” whispered Shar brokenly with trembling, hugging her terrified brother closer for the comfort of both. “How could they do this?”

Rook blinked hard to dry his eyes and shook off all the questions gnawing at his shocked mind. He dragged his gaze away for his own good and saw Ben resting his palms on the grass almost thoughtfully, as if considering to crawl after the criminals.

With the perturbing environment and the traumatic effect exerted on his young brother, Rook had forgotten that his partner was still practically lying on the ground. The farmer beside him was in the same position, but he seemed to find it more difficult to resist his own weight.

Snuffling one last time, Rook jogged up to Ben without missing a beat and crouched next to him, placing his hand on the boy’s back. He gasped in horror when Ben turned his neck. “Ben! Your nose is bleeding!”

But Ben’s mouth was still hanging open to offer calming words, which just made the bloody sight all the more disturbing. Rook’s state of mind barely endured his friend’s leakage of vital fluid. “T-they did this to you?” he asked aloud in disbelief, cupping Ben’s face with shaking hands. “Ben, I-I am sorry.”

“Dude, I’m fine!” the teen whined stubbornly, pulling his head back on purpose to stop the blood, but obviously altering its course and directing the flow down his throat. “Oh, gross!” Ben spluttered, choking on the metallic taste.

“What are you doing? Do not pull your head back!”

“Well I have to stop the nosebleed one way or another!”

“But you do not have to swallow your own blood!”

“So what,” Ben hissed, trashing about, his gaze still mirroring fright and consternation. “You want me to spit it out? I won’t do that!”

“Do you know how unhealthy is swallowing too much blood? It is like ingesting any other toxin and it can actually lead to–” Rook grabbed Ben’s arms to keep him still. “Would you stop moving? It is not helpful!”

“Rook, quit it! This is nothing! Why don’t you help him instead!? Look at the nasty cut he’s got in his lower-back!”

Rook followed Ben’s finger. Indeed, the farmer’s tunic had a thin hole tainted with a large, wet circle of dark blood, and where the Plumber expected a thoughtful or bewildered expression to cross his eyes, he found a pained one instead. “Oh. My apologies.”

The farmer hissed upon shifting, but his smile, although frail, was still present. “Do not worry. You do not have to help me, it is no more than a minor cut.”

“Minor cut?” asked Ben, incredulous. So much that he attempted yet again to jerk away. “Who are you trying to fool?”

Rook stilled him for a second time. The farmer laughed a little. “I could ask you the same question.” He rose to his feet unsteadily and knelt in front of Ben, another mild wince betraying his smile for a second.

Rook’s eyes grew to the size of golf balls the moment he placed his large hands on Ben’s cheeks and leaned closer for observation. He gave him a sharp, questioning look, but the farmer paid no mind as he angled Ben’s face to the side. The human solely blinked in response.

“It does look severe, but I do not believe it is broken.”

Ben sighed in relief. “Glad to hear that. I don’t want a crooked nose.”

The Revonnahgander’s hands crept down his shoulders, and Ben was genuinely surprised at how small they made his shoulders feel. “Is there any other injury?”

“No, I-I don’t think so.” Between the aliens’ grip, their meticulous attention and his own blood trickling down his upper lip, Ben began to become somewhat nervous, especially due to the stranger’s proximity. It was not unpleasant, really. Just weird.

Contrarily, Rook did find it unpleasant. And very much unpleasant. It was the oblivious farmer who wouldn’t get the hint or notice the hostile glare. Rook was indisputably grateful to him, but the bad vibes he got whenever the defender touched Ben so openly were far too difficult to ignore. Some of his people admired or at least respected Ben, Rook might embrace that, but no one had ever gone as far as to touch him in that cordial manner. Showing such level of affability to off-worlders went against his species’ demeanour.

It apparently was an idea this shameless farmer didn’t share.

“Ben!”

Rook Ben, presumably running to hug-tackle his hero, came to a standstill upon facing his idol’s conditions. His knees nearly buckled beneath him as more tears brimmed his big eyes. “W-what happened to you?”

Ben wiped off his chin and mouth, cracking a tiny, reassuring smile. “Nothing serious, buddy. They just hit me in the nose.”

“B-but there is a lot of blood, will you get better?”

“Sure thing! I mean, it doesn’t even hurt anymore!”

Liar. It did hurt, as heck. Rook Ben was must have noticed, because his expression worsened every time Ben spat out red. Of course the alien wouldn’t buy it. He was young, not stupid.

Shar bent over to match her brother’s height level, rubbing soothing circles in his arms and resting her chin on his shoulder consolingly. “Ben can endure this, brother. He is very strong, remember?”

The tears didn’t cease to prickle the child’s eyelids, but he relaxed significantly after releasing a repressed exhalation, much to Rook‘s relief.

Mostly out of respect, the farmer had spared a glance at the siblings over his shoulder, though it continued vexing Rook the fact that he hadn’t got his hands off Ben yet.

As sour looks weren’t transmitting the message, or the alien in brown merely refused to receive it, the Plumber cleared his throat and removed one of the farmer’s hands as politely as he managed, earning his first glance of acknowledgment since the villager had knelt down.

“Excuse me,” Rook began, eying the puzzled farmer. “I do really appreciate your help, but may I know...?”

“Oh, you are right. How uncouth of me,” the Revonnahgander apologised, pushing his body up gingerly. “My name is Neeraj – Lanth Neeraj. I come from a remote South village that was brutally attacked by these traitors months ago.”

“South village,” Shar repeated to herself. “How did you ended up here?”

“I have been pursuing them since then, every step they take.”

“So you are seeking retribution.”

“Partly, but I establish as a priority keeping most of their assaults within limits. I do not wish for other Revonnahganders to undergo this appalling experience of losing an entire home – my main aim is to reduce damage as far as possible with the help of my fellows.”

Rook listened keenly as he helped Ben up, his hands in contact with the boy’s back and chest during every single move. Ben normally wouldn’t be bothered or alarmed by his friend’s touch, except he doubted that was a worried kind of physical contact anymore. In fact, it hovered between protective and... something else? Whatever. It wasn’t time to think about such trivial issues.

“I’m sorry about your village, dude. Must have been terrible.”

“What you are doing is highly admirable,” Shar added with sympathy. “No wonder rivalry grew between you and those criminals.”

“I presume they must be tired of our encounters as much as I am tired of their escapes.”

Rook’s neutral expression twisted into a mild frown. He squeezed Ben a little and pulled him closer inconspicuously. Something didn’t fit. “Are you implying that murders in general began a long time ago?”

“That is something for which I have no accurate answer. It has been half a year since I started to witness breaking and entering into dwellings followed by wilful killing or kidnapping, but even then these first-degree crimes were not nearly as frequent. Statistically, they reached their peak during the last weeks in some regions.”

“Neeraj!” called a fast-approaching fighter, bearing small spots of dry blood on his tunic. “They could not make it to the silos, but most reserves are empty and plenty of crops have been reaped.”

Any trace of a smile vanished from Neeraj’s face. “What about the villagers?”

“Twenty-eight residents died in battle, the majority of them elder males. So far we have found over fifty wounded farmers and multiple families reported a vast number of missing relatives. Taking into account the last update, there is a total of thirty-two disappearances.”

“How many anti-traditionalists did we capture?”

“None, I am afraid. Injured criminals managed to escape on this occasion and a few others died in this territory.”

Judging by the abrupt glint of bitterness in his eyes, that particular piece of information felt like a blow to Neeraj’s spirit. “Then you shall proceed. Dispossess the dead ones of their weapons and help these people bury their loved ones. Sadly there is nothing else for us to do. Villagers will eventually move on, and as long as their silos are full, they will be able to survive.”

“As you order, Neeraj.”

When the defender spun around, he found himself being watched with burning interest.

Ben put the back of his hand against his nose to carefully wipe it off. “It’s like you and your pals are the guys’ archenemies.”

Neeraj gave a modest half shrug. “Well, someone had to be.”

“Thank you for your help, Lanth Neeraj,” Rook sort of forced himself to say. Never mind personal dislike; this Revonnahgander was on the good side and he was worth genuine gratitude. “You saved my siblings and I would like to stay in the village to return the favour, but as you can see, my friend is injured and my brother has been profoundly affected by these vicious events.”

“Oh, you mean you do not leave here?”

“No. My relatives and I reside in a northern village.”

“A northern village?” Neeraj’s eyes became huge. “Is it being attacked?”

“Of course not. I would not escape if my home was threatened.”

“Certainly! I would not be able to think otherwise! I just cannot imagine how you arrived in here, that is all. There is an important distance separating these lands.”

“Yeah, it’s a very long story. We’ll have to leave it for another day,” Ben answered for his friend, voice gentle and thankful but a tad rushed. He threw an arm around Rook‘s back to gain physical support. The nosebleed had stopped, leaving him feeling fairly dizzy and debilitated. “We should get going.”

“Yes, please.” Shar agreed quietly, holding onto her shuddering brother. “We cannot keep observing these unfortunate habitants so stagnantly...” She looked down at Rook Ben. The village’s misery was too raw for someone so young. Past crimes that took place before him were minimal compared to this massacre. “Staying will not improve anybody’s mood. It was a pleasure to meet you. I am glad the rest of my people have someone as valiant as you on their side.”

“Although I would have preferred meeting you all under better circumstances, the pleasure was mine. Be careful on the way.”

“Good luck.” Rook wrapped an arm around Ben and started following his siblings back to the ship, but his partner gave no more than a couple of dragged steps. Rook turned to see why the abrupt stop and found Lanth Neeraj holding onto Ben’s Omnitrix wrist.

“Excuse me, since I told you my name, do you think you could...?”

“Oh, sure.” Ben let go to rub his neck. “I’m Benjamin Tennyson, you can call me Ben I guess, and they’re–”

“All right, Ben,” the defender interrupted, simpering sweetly. “If we ever meet again, I hope it is in a more tranquil setting. Please, take care of yourself.”

The dumbstruck human couldn’t withhold a small, benign smile. “Same goes to you. See you around, and thank you.”

Neeraj threw Ben another wink. He turned on his heels and jogged in the farmhouses’ direction. Ben opted for ignoring what that might have conveyed and tried to resume walking, but Rook‘s intent glare acted as a barrier.

“What?”

When Rook opened his mouth, Ben thought he would literally spat at him, but then he looked down at Ben’s stained shirt and closed it again, his hard expression turning soft. “Nothing. Do you think you can walk without my aid?”

“I’m okay,” the hero say, walking past him. “But if you see me reel sideways, you’d better catch me.”

During the silent ride, Blonko and Shar agreed that it was up to their father to decide whether they should warn the rest of their family as soon as possible or keep it to themselves a little longer.


	5. Shared Insomnia

They told him everything. From the presence of anti-traditionalist clans to their proposals, from their battles to the timely intervention made by traditionalist allies. Da had remained silent and with a blank expression plastered to his face through most of their summary, though even Ben could tell he was devastated inside. He didn't scold Rook Ben for disobeying his orders, didn't blame his actions for what he had the misfortune to witness like Ben had fleetingly thought he would. If anything, the farmer had consoled Rook Ben when silent, shuddering sobs broke from him.

Da had considered the idea of informing his wife and daughters about the nearing abominations, but in the end his answer was no; not yet. Blonko and Shar had managed to keep their disagreement at bay, and that was the last time someone pushed the issue.

Dinner hadn’t been nothing like lunch. Rook Ben hadn't said a word, hadn't even poked his food. He merely nodded when Shar asked him if he would like to sleep in the room she shared with their other two sisters.

As usual, Ben had volunteered to help Shim and Bralla wash the dishes, but as usual, the latter hadn't approved of the idea of guests doing a host's task, so Ben only removed the plates, glasses and eating utensils regardless of their ever-present weak protests.

Oh, yes, not to forget that the minutes he had taken to clean the traces of blood from his shirt were proven useless. Shi had noticed the nasty gash on his arm, prompting him to improvise a believable lie. Consequentially, Rook had fixed his gaze on the large cut surrounded by few remnants of dry blood as Ben explained how he had slipped on a slope, adding some funny details here and there and reassuring her it was nothing to worry about. Shim and Shi had both laughed their heads off in the end, because really, his slippery sneakers were one hundred percent guilty.

That was pretty much it until Rook suggested (or rather, ordered) to go to his room and get some rest. He pushed the door shut behind him, placed his hand on Ben's back and led him to the table below the window. He closed the shutters, rummaged through the drawers and pulled out a glass bottle and a package of naturally coloured cotton.

Ben panicked for a single instant. "Rook, it's not bleeding anymore! Is this really necessary?"

"I must clean it, Ben. It might otherwise become infected. Please, endure the pain for a while."

"But, but..." But Ben sighed and extended his arm. Who was he trying to fool? The dude would always insist on taking care of his wounds and Ben secretly appreciated and enjoyed the guy's gentleness. "Fine."

Rook didn't hesitate. He grabbed his friend's forearm and pressed the antiseptic-soaked cotton to the side of the large cut, muttering an immediate apology when Ben hissed and flinched.

Eyes full of guilt and concern, Rook stopped at once and waited for a sign of permission to proceed. Ben eventually gave him the nod to continue despite the stinging pain, which Rook did, starting by removing the dots of dry blood, kindly as ever and with a proper amount of carefulness that wouldn't exasperate Ben.

Once the skin was clean, the alien turned around the piece of cotton to drag it along, then advanced toward the core of the gash. Ben failed to stifle a second whimper and his friend offered another profuse apology. Rook became even more gentle and softer in his actions to the point of barely applying pressure on the wound, but Ben's wince showed that it still was too much to bear.

Withdrawing his hands, Rook threw the stained cotton ball back on the table. "Forgive me, partner."

The hero tried to shake his head. "No problem."

"It is the first time I see so much blood, and I find it more perturbing if it is yours."

"Same here." Ben pinched the dorsum of his nose lightly. "Alien goo and stuff can't compare to a nosebleed. I've been punched in the nose before, but not so hard to bleed."

"I know," murmured his partner, looking keenly at the human's face, his upper eyelids drooping as he inspected. "You are more fragile in your human form."

Ben scowled. "Just how weak do you think I am?"

"You do not seem to be listening. I said fragile, not weak."

Ben rolled his eyes and contemplated retorting something like 'you shoulda thought about that before I signed up for this on your terms', but the sudden spark of anger subsided in a flash. Rook's lingering stare held something akin to concern that simply wouldn't add fuel to the fire.

"I'm not made of glass."

"And you are not made of steel either."

The distance between shortened. Two large hands rested around Ben's face for a second time that day. His eyebrows rose. The gesture felt far more comfortable, welcome and accepted, but that didn't change the fact that it was questionable. Ben was about to ask Rook the reason to his actions, but one of the alien's hands crept down to his neck and he inched closer, hunching down to Ben's height as only him and very few people were allowed to.

Ben's breath hitched in his lungs and his heart fluttered. Rook was looking right into his eyes, standing in his personal space like never before, as if he didn't understand what his proximity caused. _"R-Rook..."_ Ben raised his indecisive hands and grabbed Rook's forearms almost unwillingly, pondering between pushing away or keeping his arms around him. The roughly perceptible caress to his neck melted the grip, and then...

"You are developing a discoloured spot around your eye."

"W-what?" Ben asked, a man dead on his feet.

"Here." Rook brushed the corner of Ben's eye with his thumb. "Your eyelid is beginning to swell." He bit his lip remorsefully and caressed the teen's cheek in the same manner. Ben refrained from wincing in mild pain. "A bruise is forming here, too," Rook pointed out, his voice heavy with guilt. "Just how much damage did they inflict?"

Ben took those bigger hands away and stepped back, simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Rook didn't understand what his proximity could cause, after all. "Dude, it's nothing, don't overreact." He exhaled and flashed a strained smile, approaching the trundle bunk bed with cheeks that were definitely not heating up. "We'd better go to sleep. Which bed do you want?"

Rook wasn't neither convinced nor less tense before he turned off the light. "We will use the lower beds. Leave the top bunk empty in case my brother appears while we sleep."

Ben slumped, removed his shoes and socks, and threw them haphazardly across the room. His hoodie, T-shirt and pants came off next with initial hesitation, landing messily on top of the bed drawers. Ben had to remind himself several times that there was absolutely nothing to freak out about before getting under the sheets. They were both guys, they had shared a bedroom like this on more occasions than he could remember. Rook probably knew all his boxers by now; shame had no place at that point.

Ben rolled on his side and spotted the familiar silhouette in orange underwear moving toward the beds. The thin streaks of night light leaking through the shutters and the door gap left Rook partially exposed, and Ben admired in silence, like each time, his toned muscles, black markings and white chest fur until the guy bent over to pull out the trundle and the darkness cloaked him again. The quiet wood-clashing sound prompted Ben to hand over his extra pillow. With his back facing Ben, Rook curled up under the sheets right away.

Ben sighed and turned to the wall. After such a terrible day, it was obvious that no intimate conversations would ensue and that their little sleepover wouldn't be at the top of the funniest ones.

Hours might have gone by. Ben was pretty sure that the entire family had fallen asleep a long while ago, yet every time Ben himself began to lose hold on consciousness, the sound of sheets rustling together woke him up.

Upon hearing a series of heavy shifting and a frustrated exhalation, he eventually rolled around to check up on Rook. He found the alien lying on his back and far from deep sleep, an arm behind his head and the other resting on his forehead. Rook might have sensed eyes on him, because he looked up at his lethargic friend despite the lack of light.

"Can't fall asleep?"

The alien shook his head. "I presume you cannot sleep either."

Ben yawned. "Nah, I'm quite tired. But you're too noisy tonight. You just won't stop shifting around."

"Oh. Forgive me."

"Kidding, farm-boy." Ben rubbed his eye, resting his chin on the edge of the mattress. He got a full view of the Plumber's crestfallen face from that angle. "Look, it's pretty obvious what's bugging you. Do you wanna talk about it?"

The light was scarce, but it allowed Ben to see Rook's state and the way he averted his gaze very clear. Ben ruffled his own hair and huffed. "Okay, move it. Make some room for me."

His friend didn't question the order. Rook complied without a word and Ben spread the sheets out and slid down to his side.

They laid there for a while, covered to their middles and looking up at the ceiling until Ben worked up enough guts to spoke again. "It's a crazy thing, isn't it? To have your quiet people playing the roles of criminals, it's tough for the mind."

Rook nodded slowly. "Too tough."

"Ever thought it would happen, you know, without brain-washing?"

"No... Not even in my worst nightmares did this occur. I could not expect..." The Plumber breathed out, preparing to re-phrase his answer. For the first time, Rook Blonko was struggling to express himself. "I was not mentally prepared for such a violent revolution. My expectations about this threat related to invaders, common lowlifes and outer dictators, but coming here and finding out that my own people are responsible for damaging our home-world makes me feel as if... I do not know, as if..."

"As if you've never left Earth? As if you're still surrounded by insane garbage humans constantly hurting each other just for the heck of it?"

Rook's sad eyes were momentarily drawn to his friend's indifferent features. "...Yes." Ben looked back at him, unaffected by the answer, casual about his own assertion. It was something Rook couldn't understand. "Why do you choose pejorative phrases to describe your race? And why do you not care?"

"You already know that truth hurts, Blonko. I do care, but I'm used to my people and their faults like you are used to your pure species."

"There are hundreds of noble humans, however..." Rook trailed off bitterly. "And it seems there are plenty of dishonourable Revonnahganders."

Ben shifted around until he was lying on his side, facing his partner expectantly. "That's why I don't lump my people together. From now on, you'll have to learn to do the same."

Even though Rook refused to look back, the little light casting over them left the side of his face fully exposed. He looked devastated. "That will take a while. I used to lump my people together, like you say, because we led righteous lives even when we knew that our planet had potential for accomplishing dominance. But now with each passing day more and more Revonnahganders will cooperate with clans of mass murderers for something as empty and insignificant as personal gain."

"It's the corruptive power of ambition, Rook. It's a big change, but your species couldn't remain this pure after centuries. Kundo was the first known exception, and now there are more native wrongdoers roaming through Revonnah. It had to happen one day."

"It does not have to occur at the cost of so many innocent families. They are killing each other because of traditions and different perspectives." Rook put his hands to his face. "It is plainly erroneous and barbaric. I cannot believe this is happening, I cannot assimilate this clan's reasons."

Ben clenched a fist in front of his aching ribcage. He had never expected to see the day his partner crumbled next to him. "They're totally out of their rockers, so don't cudgel your brains to grasp their ideas. The most pointless thing you may do is questioning bad intentions, because sane beings like you will never get an answer they can understand."

"They are abominations. Did you see my brother's reaction? The aftermath of that unfortunate village? Those families did not deserve to lose their relatives." Rook covered his face altogether and pressed his palms tightly against his cheeks, ashamed of exposing his emotions to Ben.

The sight alone killed Ben inside. It dissipated his energy. "I'm so sorry, partner. I really am."

Rook eventually turned to Ben, showing his glistening eyes. Ben felt his stomach twist into a knot. "Do not ask for forgiveness. I am the one who owes you an apology."

"Dude,” Ben chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, “the only thing you could ever own me is a smoothie and I think we've already settled that up, so what are you talking about?"

Rook cleared his sight with the back of wrist, perhaps believing it was too dark for Ben to notice, and scooted a little closer. Ben unconsciously did the same. "Back in Earth, you persist in coming here and I agreed in a horrible manner."

"I convinced you to let me join you by reducing my transformations, that's not horrible."

"I agreed because I thought your suggestion was a very wise and considerate gesture. Ironically, accepting your offer was foolish and thoughtless of me."

"Well, I'll admit it wasn't one of your best decisions. I mean, the Omnitrix is help."

"That is not the point, Ben," Rook said regretfully, looking right back into Ben's eyes. "You are help, in any of your forms, but if you are fortunate enough to be the wielder of the Omnitrix, then I should have not limited its use. I forced you to risk your safety for my people's comfort and that is the most inconsiderate thing I have ever done."

The trembling gaze intensified, digging into Ben's soul in one of the most intimate manners. "You call me partner, you claim that I am your friend, and I put your life in danger in return. It was unfair of me to ask so much. Please, Ben, forgive me."

Ben tucked one hand under the pillow, a sign that he didn't intend to break eye contact soon. He wanted to remind Rook that he had volunteered to this, to tell him that he didn't have to apologise, but what for? It all boiled down to a simple phrase to assuage guilt.

"I forgive you," he mumbled with sincere feeling. "It's okay; we're okay. I don't mind."

Rook didn't look better in the darkness, but Ben could tell that apologising lifted a crippling burden from his shoulders. "Thank you."

"No problem. Besides, if it cheers you up," he stifled a yawn, "That ain't no hard task now. With the electric staff I got, those psychos are going to drop like flies if they try to lay a finger on me again."

"...You are not serious, are you?"

"What? Sure I am! They'll get a taste of their own medicine!"

"I am not referring to... Do you still intend to fight without the Omnitrix?"

Ben's smugness lessened drastically. "Isn't that what you asked back in Earth?"

"I only remember asking you to reduce transformations, not to survive through extreme situations without changing forms like you did today!"

"I know, but–"

"And notwithstanding, I have already realised my mistake!"

"All right, I get it," Ben almost whispered, intending to promote calmness. "But continuing with what I was going to say, I have more chances to live on now that I have that thing," he mentioned optimistically, pointing his finger at Rook's face in thought. "I could try again–"

Rook frowned and swatted his finger away. "You will not try anything. Forget what I asked you in Earth! It was an absurd altercation and I was wrong!"

Ben let out a fake gasp and covered his mouth dramatically, basically pooping on his previous intention. "I'm sorry, what? You were wrong?"

"Ben..."

"Oh god, what's next? Gwendolyn freaking Tennyson is wrong?"

"Ben," Rook insisted, low but sharp, "This is not a joke."

Ben ceased to banter too abruptly. "Sorry, trying to lighten the mood. Bad one. Um, are you sure you want me to use the Omnitrix all the time since now?"

"I am absolutely positive about it."

"That's some way to change your mind, dude. What about your dad?"

Rook's eyes thoughtfully drifted upward and refocused on his friend in brief. He shook his head. "As long as you are safe, it does not matter what my father says."

"You do realise that he's going to hate my guts again, don't you? We didn't get on well when first meeting because of the Omnitrix... Would you like to go back to that dark era? Remember that his anger is often misdirected. Against you, to be precise."

"My father might be orthodox and relatively inflexible, but he is not irrational."

Ben bit his inner-cheek. He didn't have an answer to that. "Are there any terms? Something I should not do?"

"No, just use the Omnitrix freely. Change your form as much as you need it."

"Okay, I guess I'll do that. Don't you worry." Ben shifted on the mattress, nodding and facing the ceiling while his partner relaxed at his side. For those ten seconds, the conversation appeared to have ended up well.

Or at least that's what Rook believed, until Ben turned again desperately. "You're totally sure, like, one thousand percent sure, right?"

Rook released a mixture of a heavy sigh and a mild grunt. "I fail to see why you keep asking for confirmation. I have made myself clear."

"I know, but you were dead serious before we left. It was a heated quarrel and I just want to make sure you won't–"

"I will not regret my new decision," Rook reassured him, the phrase coming in a fast tone that anyone may mistake by exasperation. Anyone except Ben. "I have reconsidered. Just forget my uncaring demand and our argument. My people could not be any less comfortable and there is no point in exposing your life to danger for a lost cause's sake. Your safety is not worth the risk."

Ben's lips drew tight. He scooted closer tentatively and tugged the sheets higher, snuggling them under his chin. "You sound mad."

Rook unclenched his jaw. "I am mad at myself."

"Don't be," Ben murmured. Generally speaking, he didn't handle feelings well, but he could recognize guilt and concern whenever he heard them. Rook's voice held remnants of both. "You shouldn't. Aside from some bruises and a nosebleed, nothing seriously bad happened to me."

"Yet there was every likelihood that anti-traditionalists would cause serious harm to you," the Plumber pointed out sadly, somehow placing blame on himself. "And they still can. The last thing we have to do is make it easier for them. If something bad happened to you because of the limitations I imposed, I... I would never be able to forgive myself. So please, use the Omnitrix, trigger transformations whenever you deem it necessary and protect not only my planet, but yourself as well."

Ben's chest truly contracted at that. No one had apologised to him like that before. He wasn't used to hearing such words from other than his family.

"Do you understand my request now? Will you do as I say?"

The way Rook regarded him made Ben's stomach churn achingly. He just wanted the guy to never suffer again. "Yes, okay, I'll do it. You've changed your mind; if that's what you want at present, I'm using the Omnitrix. Case closed."

A thick wave of relief settled upon the alien. His shoulders went slack under the sheets and his eyelids fell shut. "Thank you," he breathed out, inching his head even closer with a soft, grateful bow.

Ben nestled his chin further into the sheets. Rook looked so vulnerable with his pupils hidden, so drained with those pent-up tears threatening to destroy the pluck of a trained Plumber. It hurt Ben to think about the outcome of this bloody revolution, about the victims and missing farmers, but what hurt him the most was thinking about Rook dealing with it all.

Ben might lend an ear and fight by his partner's side to help out, but Rook was yet to suffer more one way or another and there was not much Ben could do about it.

Except, perhaps, sticking around through this hell.

"Anytime, buddy."

Rook's eyes fluttered open and he managed a short-lived, half smile. Ben felt the right corner of his mouth lifting upwards as well, though it twitched back to a line when Rook turned on his back and put one forearm over the bridge of his nose, nearly covering his sight once more.

Ben eventually rolled on his side, too. He spent an eternity staring at the bunk's wooden edge, waiting for more talking, soft snores or the sound of another body moving beneath the sheets, but nothing similar happened, and he could have bet his arm –ahem, his Omnitrix arm– that Rook was wide awake.

Intolerance to uneasy silence did its thing not long after, and Ben, quiet, worried and restless Ben, propped himself up and sat on the trundle bed.

The sound of sheets rustling against skin made the alien assume that Ben would go back to the guest bed, but when he peeked out to follow his moves, Ben stretched and reached out for his pants instead, getting a lazy hold of the fabric between the tips of his fingers and pulling them towards his body. He rummaged in the back pocket for his new smartphone and threw them back on the drawers without a care in the world.

On a different day, Rook would have fixed Ben with an icy glare of disapproval. Given him a lecture, even.

Funny. Ben didn't know whether to be glad or upset about the case being an exception.

Whatever. He flopped down on the mattress, typed in the password and slid his index finger across the screen to confirm and unlock the cell phone. The recognizable sound of virtual bubbles got Rook's attention, who turned to Ben out of curiosity and squinted at the brightness right away.

Ben dragged the adjustment slider to make the screen as dim as possible and inspected what it displayed. No signal, 81% of battery left and wrong time.

"Hey," he said, opening the apps menu, "it's 7 p.m. in Earth. That explains why I can't fall asleep in your home-world until early morning sometimes. It's like jet-lag."

Rook leaned in to watch, his chin avoiding contact with Ben's shoulder by less than an inch. "You realise that on your twentieth stay here?"

"Well, my phone isn't too useful in Revonnah," the human countered lamely, scrolling through numerous games and other applications. "There's no signal. I don't pay attention to it very often."

"So you are telling me that you notice poor mobile reception but not the time your smartphone displays?"

"Hm, I don't really think I don't notice. I might have realised the time difference unconsciously."

"Is the most plausible theory. As both a space and time traveller you must be used to dealing with time zones and... I am sorry, what is that picture?"

"Picture?"

"Here, in the background." Rook extended his arm over Ben's and touched the back button. The apps menu disappeared with another digital sound of water to reveal a group photo of what Rook recalled to be Max's formal birthday party three weeks prior.

"Oh, it's just a photo my mum took. I asked her the favour before guests started leaving; you hardly noticed. Anyway, despite being almost 6 a.m. we all look pretty good, don't we?"

Anyone with naked eyes would gape at Ben regardless of their sight.

Max's shirt was only half-tucked in, his jacket nowhere to be seen and his arms were resting warmly around his mirthful grandchildren's shoulders as if for attaining balance. But on the bright side, he had such a jovial, broad smile that it made the celebration look like he was turning fifty again.

Gwen narrowly resembled college Gwendolyn. She wore a white halter dress, no shoes at all, and her boyfriend's loose tie in lieu of a refined necklace. She had one arm across her chest so as to hold Max's hand and stood close to Kevin, who was carrying high-heels –oh, right, there Gwen's shoes were– and embracing her in a way that confirmed they were more than intimate friends. He didn't have his jacket on either and his smile was subtle in comparison, but it still showed the same level of elation.

Rook's eyes travelled to the other side of the photo, where Ben posed returning Max's merry gesture, his hair no longer slicked back and his jacket stained with some kind of dessert.

Rook was not surprised that he was the only one that remained neat through the night; his fitting suit was spotless, his tie straight and the jacket buttoned properly. What did strike him to a considerable degree however, was the cosy way Ben and himself stood next to each other.

It was an usual thing to do, yeah, Ben tended to rest his arm around Rook's waist in most situations because of their height difference, Rook didn't mind that. But he wasn't able to remember at all what had exactly prompted him to put his own hands on Ben's back and stomach. He'd sipped some alcoholic drinks in the gathering to gain the experience and taste them, but he hadn't had enough to be affected in the least and let alone forget events. Regardless of the cause, the contact verged unquestionably on a semi-hug, and it didn't help that Ben was also leaning towards him, practically giving into the action, his whole side pressing against his own body as if they couldn't care less what someone else may say.

Not that someone should be disturbed, Rook reasoned at once. It didn't mean trouble; being glued to each other had become some kind of habit, and a mutual one. But witnessing their closeness through a photo... It somehow opened his eyes.

And as of their appearance? Yes, they looked good indeed. Messy hair, crinkled shirts, askew ties and all, they still looked great. The elegant party hall behind worsened their hungover secreteries aspect, but the affectionate touches, the natural smiles and the ridiculous pair of glowing glasses on top of Ben's head just played for them.

Rook suppressed a laugh with a mild upward twitch of his lips. "We look decent, I will admit that."

"What the heck are you saying?" laughed Ben, "We look like crap! Like squashed, ugly crap! Well, all save you, Mister Formal Butt. Was your suit bullet-proof or what?"

Now Rook did fail to stifle his laughter this one. "The designer mentioned that it is a dry clean only suit, but he did not said it is bullet-proof. Personally, I can fondly talk about how comfortable it is. The way you described wearing male formal garments made me think them to be 'a pain in the neck.'"

"They are a pain in the neck. You ignore that because you look perfect in them."

"Really?" Rook soon abandoned his attempt to fight an impish, shy grin. "Is that your opinion?"

Ben felt the blood around his neck boil. He ran out of air to formulate an answer for three prolonged seconds and he didn't know which was the main cause: the words that had escaped his mouth or Rook's hot breath against his bare skin.

Because it was officially confirmed, the guy would never realise what obscene things his proximity caused to Ben's poor being.

"M-more like my mum's. She's the one who thinks formal clothes suits you. I just happen to share her opinion."

"So according to you and your mother, I look 'perfect' in this particular set of garments?"

All right. Ben was certain that the rushing blood heating up on his neck had spread to his cheeks like wildfire. And as if it wasn't embarrassing enough, he'd dragged his mum with him. Very brave, hero of the universe. "Hey, her words, not mine. I keep replacing it with 'good.'"

"Oh, of course. I see. Then you have the right to know that I also share your fan's opinion; you look perfect –no, I am sorry– you look good in a suit as well."

"...Okaaay? Thanks?"

"Or at least you do until two in the morning. After that you try unsatisfactorily."

"Whoa, that early?" the human laughed it off nervously. "No self-control at all. Like, the clock strikes two in the morning and a mysterious piece of lemon pie sticks to my jacket. Yeah, not my crazy uncle Manny's fault at all. Anyway, if you're done teasing me," Ben continued with his embarrassing rambling, again selecting the Apps menu, "That was an awesome night. The picture's worth being my phone's background."

"I have no reason to disagree with your last comment." Rook shifted on his side a little to get a better view, deepening the slight contact for comfort. "Are there more pictures of Magister Tennyson's birthday?"

Ben mentally inhaled through his nose before giving up. He moved around a bit until his shoulder didn't interfere and the concept of personal space became archaic. "My memory card is an endless mess. Of course there are, but we have to find them. Might take a while."

Ben got into the gallery and tapped the sole folder inside labelled 'Camera', which apparently had more than four thousand archives in store with no evident order.

When all the pictures loaded and the last ones popped up in overview columns, Rook's eyes widened in appreciation. "Your card's capacity range must be an impressive number."

"Nah. Sixty-four gigabytes. Average. Enough to store my adolescence, preadolescence and some memories of my childhood."

By accident, instead of scrolling down, Ben opened the most recent photo full view, starring Max Tennyson behind a huge steel stew pot, giving a thumbs up and feeding himself from a ladle and... and Lord, Ben felt it coming.

"Excuse me," his partner began tentatively, "May I–"

"No you may not," Ben hastened to say. "Please, don't. Just, don't."

And incredibly, he just didn't. "I will not ask."

"Yeah, thanks." Ben slid his finger to drag the following picture into view. "We'll take it from here anyway, because frankly that was the only one I had to hide."

Lots of photos came across. Rook managed to identify some scenarios in spite of his friend's fastness. He saw one starring Ben's parents ready to go out, a few self-portrait photographs that included Gwen, Ben and a reluctant, tight-lipped Kevin. There was this picture of the cousins pointing cheerfully at the camera while Kevin posed in the middle, his chin high, arms folded and back completely erect like a body-guard, no doubt performing on purpose. Then several colourful group photos of relatives, friends and some Plumbers at Max's party began to show up, though a significant amount were self-portraits photographs of Lucy and someone else.

Ben groaned in annoyance. "I don't understand why she used my phone."

"I believe she fancies herself either a model or a photographer."

"Probably, but dude! She kidnapped my phone! She coulda used hers! I know she has one!"

"Perhaps she was aware of your camera's high quality?"

"Yes, and now my gallery's full of her bizarre expressions. The price of having a super phone near a woman. Awesome."

Ben slid his finger across the screen even faster to get rid of the blur of blonde hair. "Finally," he muttered upon finding other varied faces. Or more precisely, a photograph of both viewers in suits basically sharing a chair, with Ben partially wrapping his arm around Rook's neck so as not to end up on his butt on the floor. "Um, remind me why we shared a chair all night long?"

"There were no more available seats at my assigned table," the alien explained flatly.

"And I didn't grab another from the closest table because...?"

"You were unwilling to use more energy than necessary."

"...That was my excuse?"

"And you were fairly intoxicated," added Rook with an abrupt, barely noticeable tint of hilarity. "Not as much as on your 18th birthday, but enough to admit your state... repeatedly."

"Hm-hm. Yeah..." Ben trailed off absentmindedly, ashamed, recalling how much bodily fluid he'd wasted on that occasion. "Makes sense now."

Twenty photos later, they came across a post-mission image of both of them plus Gwen, Kevin, Max and a couple of recurrent Plumbers whose lack of smiles made the picture resemble an old navy ad.

Immediately after came more gleeful ones. Like the last time they met up with Shar at Mr. Smoothie; a picture of Rook Ben covered in Amber Ogia from head to toe in company of Shim, who was hiding her eyes in shame but kept a genuine smile, and last but not least a random visit to Gwen at college.

Rook didn't manage to ignore that one. He asked Ben to let him see it a little longer solely for confirmation, and indeed, the details told the truth.

Gwen had taken the picture. She was smiling in the corner of the screen, and behind, against the campus' wall sat the rest of her friends. Rook didn't need to squint. Kevin kept some distance, but Ben and himself... well, Rook gave the impression that he could replace a backrest any time.

As the screen got darker and closer to timeout, Ben took for granted that Rook had finished viewing and slid his finger across the glass again to resume their gallery trip.

Rook blinked at the recognizable memory. A family portrait, his family portrait, taken within Revonnah's majestic landscape. The same one Ben had printed twice using photo paper, then placed inside different pictures frames as a birthday gift. The same piece that rested tangible on his room back in HQ and hung on his home living-room's wall.

Simple yet valuable. Ben sure did understand what Rook treasured the most.

"I cannot believe you did not delete this picture."

"Dude, I kept Lucy's selfies and this photo of formal zombie Kevin snoring and drooling badly at the party. Why wouldn't I keep this one?"

Rook prepared to go on talking, but Ben skipped to the picture that came after and after and so on. He arrived at the conclusion that three out of ten pictures featured them in different settings, and even if Rook had always thought his memory to be reliable, recalling the moment this habit became so regular was totally out reach.

Just when had they, in exact terms, taken so many photos together?

"Ben, wait, stop there."

"Here?" Ben asked, eying the faces on the screen. "It's a family meeting. You don't even know them. Lucky you."

"No, but, allow me to..." Rook struggled with the sheets and swiped the previous picture into view. They were sitting somewhere in Undertown, taking a break, and Max had volunteered to be the photographer. It was a typical buddy pose; elbows digging into thighs, forearms hanging between spread legs, bodies leaning towards each other's and shoulders touching. Their eyes shone too much to be an unedited photo, Rook noticed, even though he was certain that neither of them owned such sparkling optical organs.

"I favour this picture over the rest. The bright colours are vibrant but realistic. Did you made modifications?"

"Nope," Ben said, proud of himself. "Mother nature blessed us with breath-taking beauty."

"The perception of beauty is subjective," the alien mentioned philosophically. "As Magister Tennyson says, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I would rather propose that the light's quality had a beneficial impact on the photograph."

"Or perhaps we're just a couple of good-looking guys," Ben insisted with a don't-give-me-that-bullshit smirk. "Nothing wrong with the truth."

Rook chuckled. "It is an alternative possibility that we have this desirable characteristic you humans call 'being photogenic.'"

"Welll," the hero drawled through a yawn, his mind busy with that unfavourable Golden Fist Tournament pic. "Pretty sure it's not my case. I can't say the same about you, though."

"Is that also your mother's opinion in regards to me?"

Ben narrowed his eyes. This teasing guy. "Hey, no mums."

"Then you are implying it is your own personal thought. I am immensely flattered."

Rook let out a snort of amusement and Ben nudged him in the ribs. "You want to know what I think? Shut up and go read my file like you always do."

As Rook made himself fully comfortable on his right side, Ben selected the options menu at the top of the photo and, with little ceremony, set it up as the phone's wallpaper.

Blonko shrank beneath the sheets and wiggled closer like a giant worm, finally resting his chin on his partner's shoulder with a satisfied, meek expression that still screamed directly into Ben's ear 'Victory! You didn't want me in the beginning, but now I've got your heart. Take that!'

"It gives me the impression that you like this picture, too," Rook asserted softly, drawing his legs together and hugging himself.

One of his thighs brushed the human's left leg and claimed place next to his skin, and it would have caused Ben to surrender to the primal urge for emitting a lewd sound, had his remarkable restraint been a fraction weaker.

"My clothes are clean here. Score for this photo."

The late night wore on in this manner.

Ben had become so thoroughly engrossed in his photos that he forgot about the closeness and paid no heed to the hushed figure lying beside him. Not that the images were confusing, anyway. No matter how bizarre, there was nothing to ask, not even for someone like Rook.

At some point, Ben came across older, low-quality pictures from his summer camping trip and found himself smiling at his phone like a dork thanks to some Sparkville memories. That was pretty much it until the warm fur touching his leg pressed further into his skin and a deep exhalation brushed his chest.

Ben's body temperature rose steeply in that exact second. _'Man don't do this to me!'_ his poor mind begged as he threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, his muscles little short of dry cement. But upon listening to the light snores and occasional gentle purrs within a minute of psychological torture, Ben's body adopted its prior laid-back state.

He looked down at Rook and immediately released a sigh of satisfaction. His face broke into a mellow, lopsided smile. Of course, why else would this dude not ask questions about his past? He gave himself a mental pat on the back. Mission accomplished.

The screen getting darker grabbed his attention. Now that he didn't have to distract his friend from anxious thoughts, Ben could give his heavy eyelids the pleasure of shutting for whatever hours remained of the early morning.

He viewed his new wallpaper until the screen timed out and tossed the phone over to the middle bed. The idea of going back to his original place to sleep crossed Ben's spent mind. However, that might have cost all the time it took Rook to drift into unconsciousness, so Ben decided to stay next to him.

His brain allowed him to shut down a long while later, when sunlight began to leak through the shutters.

 _'Damn it,'_ he remembered the groggy voice in his head wondering, _'How am I going to help these people?'_


	6. Ultimate Rampage

Scythe in hand, Ben glared at the rock’s cleavage protecting the group of crops as he once had glared at Vilgax the Conqueror tread Earth. A pair of toned arms slipped along his own to correct both awkward stance and clumsy grip on the farming tool, compelling Ben’s back to exert most weight against the broad chest and abdominal muscles behind him.

Miraculously, he succeeded in keeping a treacherous shiver under control.

Once Ben achieved an acceptable hold, one of Rook’s hand crept up to encircle his upper arm while the other skittered down to pat a tensed thigh, leaving Ben with no option but to remember –for he forgot constantly– than his legs were supposed to be somewhat spread. Ben received the message surprisingly fast this time, and Rook rested both hands on his back encouragingly, each one gliding over his friend’s shoulder and to the side of his stomach.

Much to Ben’s hopeless misfortune, Rook maintained the painful closeness through every deliberate move even when Ben shook his upper-arms and the stiff joint between them and his neck in protest.

As Ben sighed with no success and readjusted his grip on the scythe, Rook leant in the space above his shoulder, precisely beside his ear. “Shall we begin? If you manage to reap these crops without spilling any juice, then my sisters may have one less reason to mock you.”

The threatening shiver did ripple Ben’s spine at last, but thankfully, like the jerking movements of his arms, Rook barely registered the motion.

Ben sent a sideway, impassive glance at him, the lack of detectable emotions only reflecting a vibe similar to ‘would you mind? I’m trying to concentrate here’, though Rook might have not noticed due to the split second’s evanescence. “There’d be a fine chance of doing this better if your breath wasn’t ravishing my ear,” Ben groused, which was true, in its own aberrant way. “And if those little gloaters over there weren’t waiting for the feast.”

Tempted by quiet laughter, the alien exhaled through his nose and his lips stretched into a tight curve. Of course, and Rook was well aware, the leak of air caressed part of the skin around Ben’s neck, hence he turned his face away briskly, but still did not withdraw in the slightest. “May you forgive us.”

“Three harvest festivals and he has learnt nothing yet,” Shim chimed in from across the field, scythe planted on the ground, its pole shaking with every snicker she failed to withhold. “We had to do something with urgency. My teaching methods are beginning to become scanty and I am certain that my creativity is also approaching its limit.”

Shi kicked her legs against the rocks that served as her seat, squealing with hysterical laughter. “As long as you do not lose your patience... Ben will probably have improved by his sixth or seventh festival that way.”

“I am not positive about that,” Shim smirked, carrying the mocking conversation as though the object of their remarks weren’t present -a hereditary tendency but in healthier standards, from Ben’s point of view. “It is more likely that Muroids develope superior intelligence.”

While they giggled and chittered about Ben’s abysmal farming skills, he turned his head to look at one exhausted Plumber. “Sometimes I think that whatever your sisters appear to possess of tenderness is actually evil.”

The right corner of Rook’s mouth rose lightly. “They are not to blame. Teasing you is one of their favourite avocations. Something we have in common, I ought to confess.”

Ben gaze narrowed for an instant, colder than a huntsman’s, then returned to normal out of immediate concern. He’d have retorted or dug his elbow pointedly into Rook’s stomach, but the close-up ebbed away those malicious urges in the space of a second. The spark in his favourite pair of eyes was missing, replaced by thin, red lines that rayed out at their irises. It made Ben want to mention the fact gently.

“You look terrible,” he concluded instead.

“Thank you,” Rook said apathetically, staring back into heavy-lidded eyes, tracing the dark bags beneath. “So do you.” Rook’s forehead softened as he brushed the faint bruise on Ben’s cheekbone with his thumb. Further inspection had his lips tightening, turning down at the ends, for he verified that a corner of Ben’s eye bore a light shade of purple and that the swelling had vaguely yet noticeably worsened.

Ben’s strength waned under that obstinate guilty look. He didn’t handle keeping the scythe high.

“Blonko.”

Both jumped out of their skins. They backed off as if they were each other’s evil reflections in Zs’Skayr’s headquarters and twirled around to face Rook Da.

Blonko cleared his throat and stiffened his spine out of respect. “Yes, father?”

Da eyed the pair coldly, spared a glance at his beamish daughters, and re-focused on his son alone. “I must talk to you, in private. Come to the house.”

If the order got on Rook’s nerves, he didn’t show it. He nodded and walked up to follow his father inside, keeping enough politeness to mumble an excuse.  
  
Ben watched them thoughtfully all the way, the farming tool in upright position but within a weak hold, until Shim startled him upon ramming her own next to his feet.

“You will learn how to use that scythe properly today, mucus-eyes,” she declared, smiling like a sweet kindergarten teacher. “It is, as you say, about time.”

Ben quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Not giving up yet, alley-cat?”

“No. Not now, not ever.”

“Fine,” Ben muttered with little interest, then smirked and threatened airily, “But if either of you dares to laugh at me, I swear I’ll pour juice all over that silky hair you’ve grew.” He pointed a warning finger at the younger. “Goes to you too, giggles.”

Shi released a light, innocent sound that lived up to the pet name. Her older sister, on the other hand, smirked back in a wicked, predatory, I-would-like-to-see-you-try-and- _die_ manner.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Da opened his door for Blonko, pressing his palm on the surface to close it behind them. The Plumber waited for a conversation to ensue, but his father only stared at the floor, chewing on his lower lip and refusing to make eye contact, palm resting motionless upon the door.

“Is there a matter you would like to discuss, father?” prompted Rook, fretted enough.

Da squared his shoulders slowly, inhaling through his nose to heave a searing sigh. “Yes, Blonko.” He went straight to the point. “I saw you earlier. I saw _you_ next to your _friend_.”

Rook felt his throat go dry. “. . .Pardon me?”

“Earlier in the morning,” the farmer explained, in that collected tone which comes in the eye of the hurricane, “I needed you awake and cooperating. But when I entered your room to ask for assistance, I found both of you, _both_ , sharing one single bed and wearing nothing else than your undergarments.”

Rook forgot how to breath in that eternal fraction of time. He parted his lips, but arguments, questions and even inhalations stalled as a soundless stuttering tumbled from his quivering mouth.

His impatient father held up a palm, not allowing more than one sole attempt to communicate. “And do not dare to demand privacy for defensive purposes, because I have knocked on your door a considerable number of times, waiting for a response which I did not receive.” Da balled his shaking fists, baring his teeth at the disgraceful scene that would forever be imprinted on his mind. “The mere act of seeing my eldest son, the role model for the rest of my children, sleeping beside an outsider -a male outsider, to aggravate the occurrence... It is a sordid memory that fills me with outrageous shame.”

He jabbed a finger at the flummoxed Plumber, his voice carefully low but heavy with severe chagrin. “I do not know since when you have been following the path of Earth culture, but you are dishonouring your family by betraying our beliefs, the same beliefs your mother and I so devotedly raised you to hold for the rest of your life.”

Rook hunched under the weight of such an acrimonious, unpredicted rebuke. The fact that Ben and him had been covered by the sheets couldn’t appease the surge of anxiety.

His tired gaze drifted away, past the older Revonnahgander, and to the unhelpful walls. “F-father...” he trailed off, befuddled beyond any comprehension, his weak voice dying out despite having mustered courage to look back into those steely eyes that used to glare at him more than a decade ago, but only in the middle of mischiefs. “Father, allow me to explain. This is a misunderstanding. You are under the wrong impression.”

“Under the wrong impression,” Rook Da repeated in hollow, ironical disbelief. He stalked toward his son, adopting the same wide, rigid stance from Rook’s childhood memories minus those few inches most beings are liable to lose with aging. The Plumber stepped back and his calves bumped into the double bed’s edge. After so many years, and regardless of the current height difference, his father was still an expert in the art of intimidating. “I fail to see how I could be under the wrong impression, for we both know that your brother slept in your sisters’ room, leaving two beds available for Benjamin; _three_ empty beds for _two_ people.”

“Ben and I had been talking,” Rook was quick to aver. “We fell asleep next to each other without realising.”

“If that is the case, then you could have talked whilst lying on different beds. A meter of distance does not represent an obstacle for friends who wish to exchange thoughts or opinions, Blonko, and I will have to inform you, that neither does _clothes_.”

Rook cringed dolefully. He couldn’t justify the lack of items to cover his and Ben’s bodies. Explaining how they’d grown used to seeing each other partially undressed would no doubt evoke more hostility and disapprobation.

“I am aware, father, however...” Rook fumbled for deferential arguments, bleary-eyed and completely caught off his guard. He swallowed the lump in his throat and straightened shakily. “It is not what you think, I am not... Ben is only my work partner, my most trustworthy friend, and you do not have to fret over your suspicions because our relationship will remain as such.”

“But for how much longer?” Rook Da demanded, his stormy eyes intent on his son’s brooding, enervated figure. “I may not be young anymore, Blonko, but I am still as perceptive. The bond that exists between you and your outsider partner has not been of friendship for many months and maybe more. I can sense it, I can see beyond your attitudes toward him, beyond your reactions to my dislike for him -I can see the _twinkle_ in your eyes whenever he makes your siblings laugh! It was utterly foolish of you to think that I would _never_ notice!”

The farmer twirled around and forced himself to pause, to refrain from rising his escalating tone any further. One hand became a fist, so tight and knuckled that Rook thought he’d punch the wall or whip around again and strike him in the face.

But Rook Da performed neither of those actions, and the fist loosened like a withered flower shedding shrivelled petals. “I gave you my blessing,” he continued, his voice calmer, flatter. Hurt. “I allowed you to venture into space, to become a Plumber, befriend a dumb, accident-prone outsider and bring him home any time you pleased. But this, Blonko?” He turned back and gestured around with disgust, reborn fierceness embittering his face. “This simply crosses the line.”

Rook inclined his head and clenched his eyes shut in cruel resignation. He had nothing. He’d been caught, vulnerable and inattentive. No sense in masking the truth if someone already knows its face.

“One problem at a time, Blonko,” Da warned grimly, and it hurt every time he refused to replace his name with the word ‘son’. “Violent clashes between opposite communities are breaking out all around Revonnah, and that is already enough to keep me awake at night. Thinking about my own son adopting unacceptable ideas, probably supported by these sanguinary murderers, is the last thing I call for right now.”

Rook’s tired eyes flicked up, as if he’d been wanting to say something but had desisted in the last instant.

Da’s piercing stare debilitated by the narrowest of margins. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one whose turbulent mind wasn’t allowed to be lulled into sleep. But then again, he was far too poisoned to give his son’s sleep-deprivation the benefit of the doubt. “Will you remain silent?”

The Plumber swallowed and averted his gaze. “I am afraid that it may be disrespectful if I do not.”

“You have already been disrespectful.”

Rook covered his countenance, breathing a shallow sigh into his hands. “It was not my intent,” he said apologetically, sliding them around the contour of his face and away, so they could drop at his sides and unveil frail neutrality. “But right now, your assumptions are also untimely for me. With your permission, I will monitor nearby villages in case they require our assistance.”

Rook darted past his father, his eyes trembling, more tired than any prolonged mission night but still as determined. His left hand clamped over the doorknob and he halted, twisting the round metal remorsefully. “If the clan makes an appearance, tell Shar to communicate with me immediately.”

Da’s stance faltered, but the motivation to turn around and watch his son stride out the room to risk his life without a single attempt to deny those accusations never presented itself.

“...Be careful.”

The door slammed shut, and Da’s palms lifted to his face.

Outside, chest puffed out and arms thrown wide open, Ben pumped his fists in the air like a lottery winner, exposing the front of his shirt stained with amber spots. “Rook! I did it! I finally managed to reap these things without bursting them!”

Rook nodded absentmindedly, approaching his sniggering sisters and exultant friend. He stopped, however, to examine the pool of Amber Ogia next to Ben’s feet and scythe. “There is spilled juice on the grass and your clothes,” he observed, his voice falling to an exasperated question tone by the end of his remark. His eyes settled on the pair of sisters whose lips pressed tightly to suppress soft titters, and he cocked his head to one side. “And why is there juice on their hair?”

The alien girls exploded into gales of boisterous laughter.

Ben’s victory pose shattered, as if he were a picture window and Rook had chucked a brick at him. “Yeah... I _may_ have stepped on the fruit accidently while celebrating.” He glowered at the farmers holding their twitching sides. “And some brats made the terrible mistake of laughing.”

Shim doubled over helplessly and nearly squealed. “You sound more like Shar with each passing day!”

_“Enough!”_

Both girls ceased to laugh straightaway. Bemused by the edge to their brother’s voice, their postures half-heartedly unbent in the presence of rare harshness.

“Clean all spilled juice before it attracts Muroids and wash your hair at once! I do not wish to hear father’s reprimands this early in the morning!”

Shim’s beaming face screwed into a sour frown. She combed her fingers through the white locks coated in viscous liquid and jerked her hand furiously, sending ambers blobs crashing against the grass before gathering the scythes with huffy moves, one by one. “It seems someone woke up bad-tempered,” she muttered as she walked up past Rook, her sister trailing after her with a sad little pout.

The Plumber watched them traipse away and turned around, clearly demanding an substantial explanation.

Ben made a shelter out of his shoulders, but still felt those sulky eyes slash his body in two. “I don’t know what happened, but don’t unleash your rage on your sisters. I started the juice war.”

“I expected so,” Rook only said, trying not to sound half as worn out and irritable as he was, although it probably was a little late for pretending. “If you wish to be useful today, you will follow me to the ship.”

Well, _ouch, good guy_ , that was a little insulting.

But as long as Rook was involved, Ben could gloss over any offense for their friendship’s sake, at least for that day and the following ones. “Sure.” _...Since you ask so nicely._ “Put me in it.”

And he followed the guy like a faithful dog, no questions and no resentment.

.

Ten silent minutes of sitting in the ship later, Ben was looking out dully and struggling both to ignore the engines’ humming lullaby and not to plunge head first into dreamland. He fixed his squinting eyes on the horizon, where two golden suns of contrasting intensities shone warmly, bathing the entire planet in blinding light as if sneering at him, reminding him that no matter your location, you doze off either in the afternoon or evening, but never, never, never at midday, especially if an encounter with slayers was around the corner.

And obviously, as if to sneer back, his surroundings dared to turn black all the same, and much like a diligent, early riser taking home the bacon, he became boneless. His neck gave out and his nose and forehead bumped against the passenger window for the fourth time.

Ben officially shot up and kicked himself away from that neck-killing pillow replacement, latching onto Rook’s arm in a gesture that was definitely not pleading.

“Come on, Rook! Talk to me! I’m suffering to stay awake! You were putting up with this well. What did your dad say to get you so moody?”

Rook did not much, save sparing a dismissive glance. “Nothing happened, Ben. He said nothing.”

But of course, Ben could read him like a children’s book. Everything happened inside that house. “Was it something I did? Oh, I know! He’s pissed off because your _‘outsider friend forgot to remove his lumps of hair from the shower drain_ , again.’ Frankly, dude, I know it’s rather disgusting, but you guys lose hair all the time! The infinite times we’ve shared sheets are proof! He can’t keep getting angry with us because of that! It’s unfair!”

Okay, so Ben was quite aware that he was whining, blabbering, mimicking Da’s voice rather terribly, jumping into conclusions, and Rook’s stare burning holes through him also suggested that maaaaybe he’d been shaking the arm of the ship’s pilot; you know, the one in charge of making them arrive safe and sound to their destination, relying on _steady_ manoeuvres.

“I assure you, Ben: no one but me had the enormous pleasure of removing your hair from the shower drain this morning.”

Ben released his arm. All right, Rook had mastered sarcasm. Ben totally got that. “So is that why you’re mad at the world?” he insisted, “Because if that’s driving you up the wall, I’ll try to remember and check next time I borrow your shower.”

“That is hardly the issue. And I am not... mad at the world.”

“Yeah, sure, tell that to your sisters.” Ben folded his arms. He disliked having this sort of conversations when Rook was driving or piloting. The obligation to be alert to their surroundings grabbed all of Rook’s attention. It almost equalled to being ignored.

“I concede that shouting at them was a mistake. I will apologise later.”

“Okay. Better, much better. But before that, will you answer my question with the truth or not? I hate it when you’re down in the dumps or foaming at the mouth and I can’t do nothing about it. What happened with your father?”  
  
As expected, Rook continued to favour the passing view over him. But at this point, facing each other was no longer necessary to figure out innermost emotions building up behind hardened gazes. Ben heard Rook swallow his own saliva, saw the effort such a simple action demanded from his knotted throat, and it was enough to understand that the issue was far more delicate than Ben had initially thought.

Rook’s voice sounded wretched, but it also hinted a promise into Ben’s ears. “Perhaps someday I will tell you.”

And then the human became fully aware of the intended meaning. His friend wasn’t trying to be secretive, nor was he pretending to be a mysterious closed book. It just wasn’t the time to talk about whatever happened with his father.

So Ben let the matter slip and nodded, watching out his own tone for the following question. “Fine. You’re allowed to keep things to yourself if that makes you feel more comfortable, but can you at least tell me where we’re going? Please?”

Rook tilted his head forward, towering a little over the controls. “We are heading to Revonnah’s central trading point.”

“No checking on nearby villages today, got it. Any specific motive?”

“I know you are not particularly interested in my home-world’s trading network, but are you familiar with the way it operates?”

Ben leant back and stroked his chin. “Well, you exchange Amber Ogia with those species that know about Revonnah for really essential stuff, like medical supplies or equipment and certain materials to make farming tools or build residences. The amounts are reasonable, though. Not too limited to avoid possible extortion and not too generous either, so that you’re not handing off-worlders the chance to wreak havoc all across the universe in a silver platter.”

“That’s why Revonnahganders who live in villages surrounding these trading points work there and keep an eye on the whole process, to make sure everyone sticks to this rule- Oh, yes, and there are also cargo spaceships in charge of collecting fruit from distant villages and delivering requested goods like, uh, I dunno, once or twice a month.”

Ben realised only at the end of his dense block of information that he’d been staring up and carving the air with his fingers. When Ben received no answer, he dropped his outspread hand and turned his neck to study his friend just as Rook, looking slightly bowled over, did the same. Ben could tell that the alien was having a harsh time in keeping his jaw from plummeting right onto his lap.

And then a burst of suspicious worry transformed the guy’s face. “Who are you and what have you done to my Ben?”

Ben blinked at him and stuttered, the word ‘my’ before his name triggering a 404 error within his lagged brain. _Okay, okay, breathe._ Who was he now, taking everything so literal? Rook Blonko two years ago?

He skipped out of his daze and offered a nonchalant wink, cool as a cucumber. “I blew up your mind, didn’t I? Don’t get your panties in a bunch, _your Ben_ can pay attention too... once in a blue moon, yep, but that still counts and ties into my awesomeness.”

Rook eventually remembered that his gaze had to be focused somewhere else. “I am impressed.”

Shrugging one shoulder, Ben allowed himself the pleasure of smirking. He was so used to people underrating his attention span that it had little to no offending effect on him. “Well, I didn’t look like it, but I was actually listening to Shar when she explained the whole thing.” Ben paused, pursing his lips pensively. “In fact, don’t answer my question. I see what you’re doing. Blasters, backpack-like harvesters and whatnots don’t just fall from the sky in here.”

“Exactly. And trading points are the most technological territories around Revonnah, particularly the central one.”

“Something big must be going on there,” Ben hypothesized darkly, “Either these psychopaths are mass-producing their weapons or taking over the controllers to do whatever they want.”

“Those are viable possibilities, but we have to see it for ourselves to understand their movements and formulate an infallible plan of attack.”

“Yeeees, uh, speaking of that,” Ben pressed, selective in his choice of words. “You do agree with me that we’ll have to contact the Plumbers sooner or later, right? If what this crazy girl said it’s true, if they do have so many followers, then we can’t fight back on our own by no means. Plus, I’d rather defend than attacking, and we won’t be able to protect as much as we could without the Plumbers here to cover us.”

“I know,” Rook finally admitted, and Ben perceived that damn, enduring guilt crippling his voice. “I will persuade my father into approving of the idea.”

“...And if he refuses?”

“Then we will contact the Plumbers without his consent,” his friend announced, and Ben was both surprised and relieved at the lack of irresolution. “But first, allow me to try to convince him. ”

Ben folded his arms and leaned back on the seat. “Not even one of Gwen’s charms could help you with that,” he commented, ever so optimistic. “Good luck, though. Hope he listens.”

It didn’t took much longer for the villages to come into sight. Ben knew from distance that those chains of mountains were part of the central trading point, for the observable territories there possessed plenty of protruding platforms for ships, more so than his partner’s outlying village.

“I’m almost sure that I flew around here yesterday. That massacred place isn’t too far away, or am I wrong?”

“No. Actually, that neighbouring village must be one of the many providers.”

Rook steered the ship to the left, to a particular stagnant area, owner of lots of enormous silos, numerous residences and other extensive constructions that Ben had never seen before. But something caught the human’s eye in the opposite direction, a brief flash of light-blue through the landscape, across a bordering field, vanished in thin air like lightning coming from the ground itself, or perhaps gone upon cannoning into the land’s elevations.

Rook might have seen it too, because his gaze fixed on the same spot Ben had been looking at.

“Did you see that?”

The Plumber clasped the steering controls and nodded gravely. “A particle beam, clearly blasted by anti-traditionalists.”

“Turn the ship around. We’re heading there.”  
  
And so, Rook changed the vehicle’s course and pursued a second haphazard beam, piloting the ship around the mountain until they got close enough to the village’s nearest landing platforms. They hopped off and proceeded on foot, jogging past large abodes and terraces with dispersed groups of frightened youngsters shielding behind older Revonnahganders.

The further Ben and Rook got into the village, the clearer they heard the incessant clamour somewhere in the middle, especially the loudest voices that participated and rendered the rest of the protests as well as their own phrases less capable of being understood. The pair swerved at the end of the broad path sliced between grassy terraces, and stilled before the crowded setting in the village’s core.

It was strange. The atmosphere around them was livid and the restless commotion didn’t offer much to make conjectures, except that farmers were almost divided in two opposites sides: the unarmed and those equipped with both native or modern weapons.

Ben recognized coloured uniforms by peeking through the mass of traditional shades of brown, spotted a few revolutionaries carrying blasters and forming a line ahead like silent bystanders, and he seethed at their mere presence. But for a moment, Ben managed to keep his hate at bay, because he also made out a familiar hairstyle that confirmed his impression: the village wasn’t alone in this fight.

“Quiet!” a male suddenly bellowed, tearing down the babel with his prestige. Ben assumed he was an elder, because he heard no more than scattered murmurs after the order. “This is preposterous! Why are we involved in a wrangle over the future of our village? We are becoming a disunited community and these traitors are taking advantage of that!”

A female cleared her throat. “With all due respect,” the local said, sounding as if she were talking between gritted teeth, “We are becoming disunited for good reason. They are not taking advantage, they always had it!”

“A false statement! You and the rest refuse to fight these bloodthirsty criminals; you choose to be submissive, to cooperate with them, and that is why they have enormous advantage over us!”

“They possess deadly weapons!” another female snapped, her distant voice echoing in the soundless steep hills, the crowds around her not living beings but thoughtful statues. “What makes you and the ones supporting this idea believe that we will defeat them? Are you forgetting about our families and friends? Your pertinacious will to resist is only going to jeopardise the entire village! They gave us options: battles and bloodshed or a peaceful agreement. We seconded the latter, so just accede to their demands and help us harvest for them!”

This time, a younger male defended the elder’s point of view. “We are not the only ones with family and friends! Other nearby lands and remote regions of Revonnah are composed of families as well, and as far as I am concerned, these disgraces aim solely to eradicate traditions, not to keep providers alive! How can you all sleep so soundly at night, knowing that you are collaborating on mass murder in order to save your own lives, even when it could all be reduced to a fake promise?”  
  
A moment of silence crept by. One of the females insisted, but her tone came out less hostile, more sympathetic, and a tad uncertain when she spoke again. “There is no wiser option. It is a painful atrocity that other Revonnahganders have to suffer said fate, but they are allowed to choose, just like us. If someone dies, it is because they made a terrible decision.”

“Did you actually utter those words?!” burst out a rough, sandpaper-like feminine voice, the source probably another elder. “Your credulity and lack of consideration have no boundaries! You are not only trusting our enemies blindly, but also designating your loved ones as more valuable than hundreds of lives!”

“I am sorry,” the younger female said, “But unlike you, we are not willing to risk our families and friends.”

“And so it will come to pass that all of you, who once used to care about your whole world, will abandon the rest of your species for a minority’s sake when you could have fairly fought for both.”

“If other habitants are reasonable and opt for surrendering a considerable percent of harvest in exchange of peace, then they have nothing to be afraid of!”

“You are aware of the horrible crimes these tyrants are capable of committing,” the elder mentioned grimly, in hopes of winning the opposing farmer over. “That is not a guaranteed outcome!”

“It is for us!”

“And care to explain why you are so sure that this is the future awaiting our village and any other region currently coping with a similar situation?”

“They did not attack us forthwith!” the other insisted, and Ben could just picture how her intransigence made the aging female’s lips snarl with rage. “We were offered two options!”  
  
“Of course! Because we are the ones who can hinder their purposes, _if only you–_!”

Their fierce altercation was interrupted. The confronting parties spread and jostled each other protectively, diving backward with haste to dodge the light-blue beam whirring across them. It passed by and collided calculatedly with the roof of a residence, blowing up a jagged hole through the structure as a dire warning, an ultimate order.

The locals repositioned, shocked and with their hearts in their mouths. Ben had to clasp Rook’s wrist to stop him from reaching out for his Proto-Tool. He stretched his neck to peek from above the farmers’ shoulders, and as expected, spotted Barloc lowering one of his blasters.

“You’re underestimating our power, old farmer.”

A grunt rumbled through Ben’s throat. He squeezed Rook’s wrist tighter and felt all the muscles and veins beneath fur and skin tense when his friend suppressed a sound of his own.

It was Ithera.

“We don’t need to call a perpetual truce. If you’re so eager to fight and perish, you could have said so before.”

“Do not listen to that elder, we do not wish to fight!”

“The better half of you evidently don’t,” Ithera corrected, an edge to her voice, “But the other foolish half differs, and I am getting tired of facing this situation every time we step on this damn village.”

“I– we honestly do not know what to say on their behalf, b-but... we will not interfere with your intentions as long as the arrangement we agreed upon does not lose value.”

“So you do are telling me that whatever we have to settle up falls on your opposing neighbours’ shoulders,” Ithera confirmed with new-found calmness, and Ben could just hear her withering smirk. He canted his chin up and caught a glimpse of her whirling around to address the group of villagers willing to fight back. “And you thought we were the only ones with no scruples. The message here is as clear as it is uncaring: kill them and let us live in exchange.”

“Be silent,” someone hissed, outrage contained but threatening to explode at any second. Ben released his partner’s wrist limply upon realising that it was Neeraj’s voice. “You consider yourself cunning, a tactical mind, but I fail to see how attacking by surprise with advanced weapons and taking advantage of an entire civilization’s fear makes you and your followers more than a clan of despicable cowards!”

“Cowards,” Ithera repeated emotionlessly, then laughed. It was such a revolting sound that Ben wanted her to bite her tongue by accident if she was ever to emit it again. “You’re running out of insults, roaming ghost. You couldn’t even protect your own village from being buried. What are you doing here? Trying to mitigate the haunting guilt?”

Whatever little food Ben had during his stay was bubbling inside his stomach. He felt burning repugnance towards her. His soul hated hers.

And he was not alone in the feeling. Neeraj’s voice also hinted loathing, raw and impassioned. “This village will not suffer the same fate mine did.”

Armed Revonnahganders scurried and pushed their ways past stilled locals of both groups, their blasters and scythes prepared to take action. Those subservient to the clan backed away stealthily, holding their breaths in sharp intakes of air.  
  
“No, you’re right; it won’t,” Ithera allowed, and the shrill buzz of energy within the aligned blasters accompanied her brief pause. “It’s going to be worse, and neither you nor any of these wayfarers will live to tell. Not this time.”

There was only a split second of suspense and preparation, of doubt, determination, fear and bravery. And then, screaming and blasts burst to life simultaneously. Farmers scuttled in all directions, hugging the sides of their faces and hunching down to keep their heads as the battle raged on. A couple of villagers tumbled to the ground with the impact like fallen soldiers and their frightened allies inevitably tripped over their bodies.

By the time Ben and Rook saw the scattered snipers shooting from mountain terraces, they were both hastening to assist whatever way they could. Rook charged forward and formed his power sword while Ben stayed behind and scrolled through his aliens. Green light consumed his frame and Armodrillo sprinted across the field without thinking straight. Light rays ricocheted off his armour, a cruel reminder of the farmers’ vulnerability that continued stumbling to the ground around him, wounded and with little hope of living. He struck a male, disarmed a female, and threw her away against another foe just in time to save a local from getting killed.

Again, anti-traditionalists multiplied, appeared from nowhere and barrelled through the village like a plague, controlling old, modified mecha harvesters that acted more as unit combats than farming tools. One of them, faster than those Fistrick had introduced to slow-witted Muroids, caught one of the many farmers attempting to reach inside to finish its pilot and flung him away like a rag doll. Another nimble villager jumped on the machine and clung to it, then sunk her scythe with unrelenting strength into the front metal dome shielding the pilot, but before she could break through the confined cockpit and render the unit useless, the machine caught her ankle and the story repeated itself.

The defenders’ blasters did little damage to the armoured harvester. It was like attacking Armodrillo. That was how it occurred to Ben that in this form, the battle would be fair only if he became the main target, and he ran straight toward the robot.

“Hey, mess with someone of your own size!”

Before the pilot inside could register the threat and react, a clenched metal fist collided with the harvester and sent it bouncing back until it crashed against the supporting base of a nearby silo, denting the surface and twisting the metal bars at odd angles.

Ben saw the robot struggle to get back on its feet and he failed at holding his tongue. “Come on, get up! Let’s settle this up, from digging machine to harvester!”

The mecha rose with some effort and didn’t waste a second to charge back, but Armodrillo was prepared. He caught both its arms, its pincers-like hands opening and closing with an exasperated clatter as both of them shook with the exertion of resisting each other’s strength. Their struggle lasted a brief moment, though, for as soon as Ben felt his large frame gradually invading the mecha’s space, he released one of its arms and hastily struck it again, then again with his other hand, and once more, until the machine tumbled away for a second time.

With all the adrenaline that came with engaging in a fight, Ben barely noticed the sudden brightness and louder screaming behind him. It was only when black smoke and an orange glow blinded his peripheral vision that he winced and glanced around for any possible source, and he nearly choked on a gasp upon meeting a wild wave of fire making its way across the village’s grass and chasing horrified farmers.

What the...?

“There are not just harvesters and blasters tearing the whole place apart, but also flamethrowers? Are -are these guys _completely insane!?_ ”

All at once, the renewed tunnel of swirling flames incinerated an innocent girl, climbed part of a residence like an oversized shadow, and swept across the roof with a kind of speed that could make anyone fear for life. Ben whipped around, his eyes darting everywhere, seeking out the guilty. There were two Revonnahganders controlling the streams of fire, and although Ben had not paid attention to his History classes even once throughout his time in school, he knew how much the backpack weighted and how it could impair the operator’s mobility.

No wonder one of them didn’t manage to dodge that wheelbarrow Ben flung at him, thus landed hard on top of the cylinders filled with propellant gas and flammable liquid, likely to be Amber Ogia.  
  
As Ben hoped, no tragic explosion ensued, but the alien’s partner made up for the ephemeral lack of lethality and was quick to project a new stream of fire, emitting a more perturbing combustion sound than those caused by Heatblast. Ben dove to the side, the far-reaching flames still heating up his armour, tainting his peripheral vision with a dangerous orange glow but otherwise not causing any harm.

In plain sight, this put Ben in another fair, albeit predictable battle. Armodrillo’s body was not made for agility, but neither were flamethrowers. Fact was, Ben was unaware of how easily anti-traditionalists could turn the tables on him. While fire drove possible allies away, his mere presence only attracted foes and soon, a significant number of mechas was approaching him from each direction.

Relying on Armodrillo’s abilities to generate destructive earthquakes, Ben stayed in place and positioned his hands against the ground. However, before he could begin pumping the jackhammers on his elbows to keep himself safe, he felt two pointed metal tips dig on his back and then, with the same strength of a car crash, the course of electricity made Ben jerk forward, tearing a long, hoarse scream from his throat and stopping him from moving altogether. He was panting when it was over, his gaze vacant and unfocused as the grass took over most of the catastrophic scenario.

Dark footwear and the end of a pole appeared in Ben’s sight. He canned his neck and looked up through the faint haziness, but he didn’t get to see more than Ithera’s pleated skirt and part of her black corset. In perfect timing, several blasters whirred one after the other and the robotic footsteps grew louder. Armodrillo, weakened and almost paralysed, propped on his elbows and glanced at the side, groaning with the effort and unsurprisingly surrounded by enemies.

“Your durability must be highly incredible in this form, but it still piques my curiosity what prolonged electrocution might do to you.”

Ben attempted to talk, but his breath hitched and all that came out was a pained growl.

Ithera chuckled. “Doesn’t this remind you of something, earthling?” She jabbed Armodrillo’s temple. “You didn’t hear me say it, but I swore you would regret not having killed me.”

Armodrillo’s torso trembled with the difficulty of supporting his own weight. “I only regret not having finished you,” he elaborated, the slight echo in his voice low and grim, “because your voice wouldn’t be sickening me now if I had.”

Calling upon whatever residual strength remained in every corner of his body, Ben stretched out one arm and tried to sweep Ithera off her feet, but she dodged with ease as though she were jumping rope, then moved away in a couple of nimble strides, her calculating gaze fixed on Ben all the while.

Armodrillo pushed himself up with astounding speed and didn’t miss a beat. He clasped the closest harvester and lifted it inches above the ground, pumping one jackhammer arm and launching the machine across the field. Immediately after it thumped against a mountain’s base, a flood of laser blasts ricocheted off his back. Armodrillo looked over his shoulder, saw their shooting backfire on both harvesters and armed aliens, though most of them, counting on inhuman agility, stepped aside and got away unharmed.

The flamethrower operator was no longer within perilous range. He could have advanced and fulfilled his task somewhere else in the village, but no such luck. The beam of energy whirred past the party, past the mechas, and headed right for the backpack.

Armodrillo’s forehead softened immediately. “Oh dear.”

The beam dug a hole through the cylinders, and in a nanosecond, the leak of built-up gas and liquid Amber Ogia caused a minor but deafening explosion that not only ended the operator’s life, but also filled the air with thick smoke and, as if it were raining fire, sent small flames into the silo, triggering a even louder, so powerful explosion that the damaged metal bars finally gave out and the storage unit began to topple over.

Meanwhile, a bit further into the village, the uproar distracted Rook mid-fight. His eyes flitted from the rebel to the side, leaving his guard down for an instant that wouldn’t even be enough time to blink, and still his foe seized the opportunity to ram her knuckles into his face, then kick him full-force in the stomach.

Choking on the sudden lack of air to breath on, Rook bounced off and fell backward, releasing his power sword the second he collided with the ground. He sat up as fast as his conditions allowed him to, holding his throbbing middle and gasping, but he had no time to continue suffering. Rook’s ears perked up at the noise of metal creaking as an enormous shadow loomed over him.

He looked up and froze, guts throbbing and eyes wide.

A silo was coming down on him.


End file.
